


Ever-Encroaching Dusk

by Rainbowgirl147



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: AU, Angst, Dark Fantasy, Friendship Is The Best Ship, Gen, No Romance, No Slash, Non-Linear Narrative
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:20:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21823564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainbowgirl147/pseuds/Rainbowgirl147
Summary: A soul torn to shreds. Another dwindling away. One more blasted into oblivion.An unrestrained force of chaos. Another breach of trust. One more ineffable obliteration.A once lucid man. Another splintered psyche. One more unhinged zealot.An unused weapon neglected in the hands of the slain. Another cloth stained with crimson. One more casket lowered into the ground.An unheard cry. Another silent demise. An ever-encroaching dusk.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 9





	1. Whispers Of Laughter In The Dark

**This story is dedicated to my teacher. If you hadn't given me the first push, this story wouldn't exist.**  


He slowly turned around when his name was called. It was a whisper. A raspy voice which cut through the silence like a sharp knife slicing a fresh, plump tomato. He knew better, but he couldn't help it. His brain screamed "Stop!" but he found himself swiveling around anyway, eyes wide in the inky darkness.

The silence was suddenly interrupted by a cacophonous wave of roars. He froze, heart thumping wildly, breaths coming out quick and short. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face, joining the sticky moisture on the base of his neck when he realized what the sounds were. It was the whispers. Hundreds and thousands of them, all calling out the same thing. "Lukas."

"Lukas!" his name was hissed, growled, spat and moaned by the disembodied voices. Realization finally decided to return and along with fear, he remembered how to work his legs so he turned tail and took off, his only source of light, forgotten on the dusty, wooden ground. He ran blindly, arms stuck out before him, grazing and groping the walls.

He slammed into walls, banged onto doors and tripped down cold, hard steps but that didn't stop him. Everywhere he ran, the whispers followed. In fact, they seemed to get louder. Some voices were singing his name now, calling out to him with glee and mockery. The loud hisses sounded like laughter. They were laughing at him! Laughing at how foolish he was for entering the damned crypt! Laughing at how silly he probably looked, running around in the dark maze of cold stone and dusty cobwebs! They had the audacity to laugh at him! What were they, other than piles of century old bones?

He took a random left turn and ran straight into a hard surface. Momentum caused him to topple back and gravity almost had him flattened to the floor but he stealthily balanced himself after wobbling back a few steps. Cursing under his breath, he swiped his thumb under his throbbing nose and felt the sticky warm liquid running from his nostrils and onto his upper lip. He pushed his pale blonde hair away from his forehead and heaved a sigh, closing his cobalt colored eyes.

He put a hand on his chest and stood up straight, his heart palpitating rapidly, adrenaline furiously pumping in his veins. The whispers of the skeletons had not gotten any quieter but his ears had adjusted to the eerie sound. Despite that, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up and goosebumps covered his skin. Suddenly a piercing silence rolled in. Lukas instantly opened his eyes and inhaled sharply when an icy breath blew onto the back of his neck.

Whirling around instantly, he felt his eyes widen and now that they finally adjusted to the dark, he noticed the silhouette of a person standing behind him. Upon closer inspection, he realized it was a skeleton. Despite its lack of lips or any other kind of facial features it seemed to be smiling at him. The skeleton was a yellow color and the large, empty sockets had dusty cobwebs. Its rotten teeth were parted and even though its jaw wasn't moving, the raspy whisper of laughter filled the corridor, followed by the eerie "Lukas!"

He blinked and took a large staggering step back, followed by an equally shaky one. He weakly raised his quivering arms in defense and despite his usually intact dignity and manliness, something very similar to a whimper escaped his lips when he saw the army of skeletons behind the lone yellow-boned leader. The roar of whispers was back, loud as ever. During the brief seconds he had before he was completely swallowed by the mob, he hopelessly prayed to a god he had ignored his whole life.

His back bumped against the stone wall behind him and the leader cocked its head, as if it was observing a specimen under a microscope. Lukas cursed his unhealthy obsession with ghosts and now that he was so close, he wondered how he had been so amazed by the afterlife and Death itself. He was practically looking into the eyes of death at that very moment.

And with his last breath he let out a cry that shook the walls as the bony hands swallowed him into the crowd, grabbing for every part of flesh they could reach. His screams were drowned out by the ear-piercing whispers of laughter in the dark.


	2. A Tad Too Late

Emil stared at the screen with a slight frown on his face. The unread email in his inbox was starting to get harder to ignore. Every morning for the past four days now, he would open his email to see if anything new came in and every time, he would see the same one, with the little purple dot beside the sender's address indicating it as unread.

From 'Bigbrother@hetalia.net'. Written in bold letters the subject of the message read,'You can't ignore this forever Emil!'

He let out a soft chuckle and ended up clicking on it. "Lukas you dork!" he mumbled to himself before skimming over the lines.

Despite his cold facade, he actually loved his older brother very much. He just had a hard time showing it. Lukas on the other hand, had no problem announcing it to the world that Emil was his 'baby brother'. As a matter of fact, the only time one could decipher an emotion other than disinterest in the activity around him or his obsession with the supernatural, was when Emil was around to tease and fuss over.

Upon reading the first paragraph( which seemed to be full of sappy gushiness that was too much for him to handle) Emil found his lips turning up in a smile. Lukas was such a fool. The second paragraph, however, consisted of the annoying, never-ending nagging also known as 'big brother's advice'. His smile was replaced with a frown now. He rolled his eyes and didn't even bother with the rest of the email.

He clicked the small trash can icon and the letter was discarded. Again with the nagging. He stood up and left the table. Couldn't the others understand he was no longer a baby? He was nineteen and completely capable of taking care of himself, thank you very much.

But no, everyone else still treated him like a child. There was Tino who was always mothered him and treated him like he was made of glass. Mathias who annoyed the living daylights out of him and Lukas who always embarrassed and teased him. At least Berwald was bearable, but still.

It was really clear that they cared very deeply for him. As a matter a fact, the five were such a close-knit group they would come rushing to each other's aid, no questions asked. He got that message pretty clearly a while back when he fell extremely ill. They had all dropped everything and flew out to his place. He just wanted them to let loose and be as free and open as they were when he wasn't around. He wanted to be treated as an equal, was that so hard to understand?

Absentmindedly scratching his back, he strolled into the kitchen. After a quick scan of the mostly empty cabinets, he decided to order take out. He made a mental note to get groceries the next time he went out and placed his order for delivery online. It was much more suitable than having to do it over the phone. The mere thought of having to actually dial the number and build up the courage to talk made him uncomfortable.

Yawning loudly, he plopped down onto his dark blue sofa. As he waited 'just forty five minutes!' as the bright pop-up message had said, he plugged his earbuds into his phone. He blasted his favorite songs and scrolled through social media, his eyelids growing heavier by the minute. His heart melted a bit at the pic of Tino's puppy innocently beaming at the camera and he double tapped it before the phone slipped from his hand and his eyes shut.

~~~~

It was hard to see. He tried squinting but it didn't help his eyes adjust to the obsidian colored void around him. He stuck out his arms and blindly inched forward- or at least he tried to. It was like trudging through rapidly moving water. He could hardly lift his feet. Yet he wanted to move forward, he had to move forward. Something in the darkness was calling to him. It was telling him that he absolutely had to come. His entire being was yearning to go into the blackness that welcomed him with open arms.

There was a muffled cacophony of noise that grew louder and louder by the second. Cymbals violently crashed together and the pounding of drums boomed like thunder, he could feel each destructive thud with his heartbeat. The strings of multiple electric guitars were violently shredded and there was a relentless, throaty, guttural roar somewhere in the mix. Amidst the crescendo there was another voice. It was familiar somehow but Emil couldn't hear it very well over the music.

He swung his arms out in front of him again and winced when his knuckles knocked against stone. He shook his throbbing hand and then carefully raised it to his right where he had felt the stone. Using the wall as a guide, he continued to lumber forward. The pads of his fingers tore as he traced them along the rough wall, shoving against the force that made movement impossible. He couldn't comprehend why, but something within the darkness was luring him in. Whispering for him to draw closer, just a _little_ bit closer.

The clamor of noise was so loud now that it hurt his ears. He wanted to cover them but if he let go of the wall, the resisting force would push him out for sure. The other voice was slightly more clear now, and just like the music, it was steadily getting louder. Emil strained his ears and tried to block out the instruments but the voice mixed in with the singing. What little he could make out sounded just like-

A silhouette of a person appeared in the darkness before him. They weren't too far away, just about ten steps or so and he'd be able to see them. For a second, he thought he heard his name. He cocked his ears and listened but it was useless trying to make out what the shouting voice was saying. He cleared his throat and dug his heels farther into the ground. He opened his mouth to speak.

"Hey!" he tried, shouting over the commotion. Right then and there, out of nowhere, he was hit with a frigid blast of cold air. A gust of wind so strong blew from the darkness, that he toppled over onto his backside. He leaned against the wall to maintain his balance and shielded his eyes with his arm. Through the tears in his eyes (no doubt brought about by the powerful gusts) he could see movement. The silhouette stuck out its arm and beckoned to him. He felt compelled towards the darkness even more. His entire soul yearned to reach the person and to go with them.

The shouting had now changed to hollering. It was decipherable now, what the voice was yelling. The music had reached a whole new level of noisy, he was pretty sure his brain was shaking. He fell to his knees and clasped both hands over his ears as hard as he could.

"Emil!"

The voice shouted and the silhouette whispered. He shut his eyes against the glacial wind and dug his shoulder into the jagged wall. The invisible force and the winds were getting harder to fight. The susurrations sliced through the pandemonium with ease and reached into his mind, calling out to him. How did it know his name?

"Emil!"

The voice raged at him, just like the cymbals which crashed into each other furiously and the drums which were violently pounded on. Like the guitars that were ferociously shredded and the merciless, guttural bellows. It demanded his attention and ripped his focus away from the whispering silhouette.

"Emil!"

The blasts of air numbed his bones and forced tears out of his eyes. It launched thousands of tiny needles at every inch of his exposed skin. It whipped up his pale silky hair and ruffled his clothing. The Invisible force rammed into him over and over, causing his body to shake with each strike.

"Come closer~" the silhouette purred, the words slithering into his ears and gripping his heart tight. "Come closer and see~"

Uncovering his ears, he cracked open an eye and dug his palms into the ground. Unable to stand, he began to crawl forward. The whispers in the dark sounded like laughter. The voice was now screaming bloody murder.

"Emil!"

He put one hand in front of the other and dragged himself forward. He just had to see what was in the darkness.

"No!"

The blasts of wintry air sliced his skin. The force was almost suffocating. The whispers were hypnotizing. The yelling was daunting.

"Closer~"

He was almost there now. The silhouette was within reach. It was leaning towards him, hand extended. Murmurs of laughter echoed from behind the darkness. His hand had just barely grazed the silhouette when something rammed into him with a terrifying strength. The ferocious bellow shook him to his core.

" **EMIL LEAVE NOW!** "

He heaved in a large amount of air and sat up with his head spinning. His heart thundered wildly and he hugged himself tight, gasping madly. It took a good minute for his pulse to slow down but even then, each heart beat thrummed hard against his rib cage. Over the loud throbbing in his head, he heard music playing. Something hard dug into his side and he pulled it out.

The smiling face of a very annoying Dane flashed across the screen. Mathias. A very lovable guy, but sometimes on the aggressively nice side. He saw that Mathias had sent several other messages as well before calling. Emil didn't want to deal with him at the moment. He tore out the earbuds and tossed the phone aside. The violent heavy metal he had fallen asleep to was still audible.

He felt talons curve around his shoulder and looked up to see his pet Mr.Puffin perched on his shoulder. "Delivery guy is here!" he squawked in his raspy voice.

"What?" he croaked, still shaken up from his- what would he call it, _dream_? It felt way too vivid. His entire body was drenched in sweat.

"The take out you ordered! You sleep for what, thirty minutes, and then suddenly forget?"

Perspiration covered his hair and made it cling to his forehead. "Oh yeah. Right." He ran a hand through his now drenched locks and sighed, trying to clear his head. The shouts and whispers were still echoing in his mind. Mr.Puffin stared at him, waiting for him to move. Emil stroked the bird's feathers and heaved another deep breath.

Just as the bird was about to ask if he was alright, Emil spoke up. "Thanks." he muttered before shaking his head as if to clear it, and patting his pockets for his wallet. He stood up to look for it.

Forcing the chilling dream to the back of his mind, he dug around for his wallet. Mr.Puffin flapped his wings and perched himself on the edge of the table, deciding to watch instead of help. Emil rolled his eyes at him and lifted the throw pillow on his couch.

He never questioned why his bird could talk. Mr.Puffin had been with him as far back as he could remember. He could talk back then and he could still talk now. It was pretty much normal at this point. He crossed the room and checked in the kitchen. He heard Mr.Puffin follow him.

He had actually liked magic and everything to do with it just like his brother back then. If he thought really far back, he could remember when he used to play with his older brother and his two other friends who were also magical. Emil used to be awestruck by the three of them. That was a long time ago. Back when he was still a silly little child. He scoffed and headed towards his bedroom. Where was that damn wallet?

Now he could hardly stand Lukas, he had no idea how he even managed to enjoy the company of those other two. Arthur and Vlad. Along with Lukas, the three of them would always meet up and discuss magic as if it were a real thing. How childish. With his fists on his hips, he scanned the slightly disorganized room. Even though he hid it, the fact still remained that he too could see all that existed. Unlike Lukas though, he couldn't care less.

"Aha!" he exclaimed when he saw the wallet peeking out from under a pile of books.

"About time." Mr.Puffin mumbled. Emil shot him a look and the bird moved his wings to imitate a shrugging gesture. He swiftly swiped it up and made his way back to the living room, Mr.Puffin flying behind him.

It was an old thing. The blue and white Nordic Cross on a red background was embroidered into the leather. It was a gift from Lukas and although they were biological brothers, Emil was born on the island of Iceland and considered himself and Icelander no matter what anybody said. Despite that, he kept the Norwegian wallet gifted to him. He snatched a few bills from it and shoved the secretly prized possession in his pocket. He swung the front door open and looked around.

"You said he was here!" he complained to Mr. Puffin. The bird squawked something unintelligible. He looked down and his brow furrowed. "What's this?" Emil bent down and scooped up the package left on his doorstep. He looked around once again, but there was still no one in sight. Slamming the door shut with his foot, he stared down at the plain box.

Wasting no time, he sat down on the wooden floor and carefully opened it up, peeling away the sellotape and discarding the wrapping paper. When his brain finally got over its shock at the size of the box and the minusculity of the object within, it registered exactly what the object was. It was a golden hair clip in the shape of a cross. It was what Lukas used to keep his hair from falling into his eyes. Just one problem. One huge, completely horrifying problem. It was not on Lukas's head. It was in this box that had no sender's address.

Lukas never, ever took off his cross hair clip. He had it forever and probably even slept with it. His Lilac eyes, now as wide as tennis balls, scanned the room and then the box and then back to the clip in his hand. Whispers of laughter and dreadful bellows echoed in his mind. Something horrible had happened to Lukas.

"What's that?" the hoarse voice startled him back to reality, away from horrid possibilities of what could've happened.

He looked toward the pile the bird was gesturing to. He noticed the paper withing the decorative wrappings and with shaky hands, he picked it up. His eyes were seeing the words but his brain had burst with a wave of emotions, too many within too little time.

' _Come quick and win your prize_.

 _A tad too late and big brother dies!_ '

~~~~

Four hours later, Emil found himself standing in the darkness at the entrance to the biggest church he had ever seen. A strong gust of wind picked up and chilled his bones. A daunting feeling crushed his heart as he stared up at the gigantic building. The darkness of the night gave the holy ground a haunting feeling.

He barely knew how he had gotten himself there. The second he read the letter, his brain had gone into auto-pilot. He hardly remembered scrambling back to his computer to dig through his trash mail and reading every single word in Lukas's last email. He was almost hyperventilating as his eyes scanned over the words in the last two paragraphs.

Lukas had heard from many of his sources that there were some disturbances in a specific church ground. Something about the crypt being taken over by some dark, never-before-seen type of evil and Lukas went to investigate it right away. He wanted to do it on his own and had written a very lengthy paragraph telling Emil not to follow him under any circumstances.

Normally, Emil wouldn't give a damn and would wonder why Lukas even bothered wasting his time telling him all that nonsense. However, this situation was completely different. Emil _absolutely_ had to go after him and bring him back! He had been disquieted by that _dream_ or whatever it was before, but had pushed it aside because he thought it was just that, a dream. But the second he saw the hair clip he knew something had gone wrong and someone or _something_ had Lukas in those crypts. If only he had read that stupid email earlier!

Another strong breeze kicked up and he was reminded of the icy blasts from his dream. He reached out to Mr.Puffin who was perched on his shoulder and stroked the bird's feathers.

"Hey, are you sure about this?" the bird murmured uncertainly. Emil sucked in a wavering breath and steeled his nerves. In all honesty, he was terrified. He didn't want to go in. He could almost feel the waves of dark energy rolling off the place. The susurrations of the leaves being tossed about by the wind sounded way too similar to the whispers in the darkness.

The thought of calling the others and asking for help crossed his mind. He shook his head to get rid of the consideration and then nodded to answer Mr.Puffin's question. "Yes, I am sure." He needed to do this on his own. He would go in, grab Lukas and get out. Pretty simple. He could use this opportunity to prove he wasn't a child.

A few more seconds of silence dragged on as he stared at the building, still unwilling to go in. Images from before flashed in his mind and he almost thought he felt the resisting force squeezing his chest. No matter how much he wanted to prove himself he still had to be logical. If it was too much for Lukas, then who was he to think he'd be able to do it alone? He grabbed his hair and began to pace.

He wanted to, no he had to do it by himself. It was the only way to prove himself. But...

Another ominous breeze blew against him and fear clenched his heart as he glanced at the dark structure.

Lukas had to have told him to stay out for a reason. What was he doing, thinking he could go in and save someone as experienced as Lukas? Emil hadn't even thought of, let alone used, his magic in ages! Maybe he should call the others. Or probably Arthur or that other guy, Vlad?

Mr.Puffin let out a soft coo and nuzzled his head against Emil. Emil stopped pacing and placed a hand on his pet. He took in a deep breath and made up his mind. The longer he stood out here being an indecisive coward, the more trouble Lukas was in!

He removed the empty wallet from his pocket and ran his thumb over the worn leather. He pulled the golden clip out of his locks and twirled it in his fingers before gently placing it inside the wallet. He cleared his throat and raised it to the bird.

"In case I don't come back," he mumbled, his voice wavering. "You know what to do." Mr.Puffin stared at him for a solid minute then pecked the shell of his ear.

"Ow!" Emil grabbed his throbbing ear and scowled. "Mr.Puffin I'm being completely serious right now!"

"So am I!" he squawked, snatching the wallet from his hand. "Stop acting like you're gonna die in there or something! You better come back out alive or I swear you're gonna regret it!" He flapped his wings and ascended into the air. He turned around again with an afterthought. "And if you go and die in there I'll personally follow you to the afterlife and give you hell!" he threatened before soaring away with a final caw.

A trembling smile covered his face and fear gripped his soul tightly. He didn't know if he would make it out of the situation alive, but he was without a doubt, one hundred percent certain Mr.Puffin would carry out his mission. He watched until the bird was a tiny dot in the distance and took a shaky step forward. With final words of encouragement to himself, he ducked inside.

~~~~

If only he had taken the letter to Mathias instead. He pushed himself to sprint faster, his palm being torn by the rough wall he used as a guide in the darkness.

If only he had told someone where he was going. He let out a whimper when a bony hand wrapped around his ankle and he careened to the left to shake it off.

If only he had practiced his magic. Perhaps then he could have a chance to fight back. A panicked cry escaped his lips when he glanced over his shoulder and saw that the army of skeletons was advancing. A sharp pain dug into his side with each step that he took. He stumbled over something cylindrical, but quickly regained his balance. Unbeknownst to him, he had almost tripped on a long dead flashlight, forgotten on the ground by Lukas. His own flashlight had refused to work inside the crypt.

"Emil!" The whispers of the skeletons chilled him to the bone and he ran on, arms stuck out before him, wildly struggling to keep balance in the dark.

"Lukas!" he shouted, his throat raw from screaming. "Lukas where are you?" The skeletons seemed to find this funny.

If only he had heeded Lukas's warning and stayed out! He looked over his shoulder again and suddenly crashed into something suspended in the air. His body collided hard with the stony ground and pain throbbed throughout his body. His breath caught in his throat and he rolled over onto his back. There was no time for laying around, he had to get up or the skeletons would get him! Pushing himself off the ground, he stood up. His mouth flung open to holler when he looked up and saw what he had crashed into.

Emil only realized all this at this final moment. He didn't care that his throat hurt, or that it was childish to cry. He wailed loudly as he fell to his knees and stared at the limp body dangling from the ceiling. And with the hope of saving his brother dimmed out, he succumbed to the mob of cold bony fingers that swallowed him and his final cry of "Big brother!"


	3. The Spanish Invasion

Everybody in the house was suddenly quiet. The twins were hovering together in the dark closet. The elder of the two, Lovino, was quivering so violently, he feared that the whole room would start shaking. The younger brother had both his hands on his mouth, trying and failing hopelessly, to stop the whimpers from escaping past his lips. Despite the sudden silence, the twins did not budge. They knew that the madman was still lurking about in their vast home.

Instantaneously, with an impact like that of stone against glass, the silence was shattered by the wail of a man once sane. "Lovi! Feli! Come out my little tomatoes!" His once melodious voice was now a horrible mix of a quivering falsetto and a graveling guttural sound harsh to the ears like nails against a chalkboard. The boys froze, hearts racing and arms gripping each other. The man continued shrieking in his mother tongue, his Spaniard mind too cracked to process anything else.

"The Great Spanish Empire is here to claim his land! The Spanish Inquisition shall begin once again!" this nonsensical statement was followed by high pitched giggles and the sound of splintering wood.

"He's fucking lost it!" Lovino whispered to his teary-eyed brother who nodded in reply.

"Are we going to die? Is Antonio going to kill us?" he asked.

~~(Earlier that night)~~

Humming silently to himself, Feliciano ran his fingertips along the worn spines of the thick volumes as he strolled rather aimlessly in the large room. The massive Persian carpet underneath him was soft and the walls were lined with old but sturdy bookshelves that grazed the ceiling. The small, elegant chandelier enveloped the room with a warm amber glow. Reaching the edge of the bookshelf, he came to a halt and let his hand drop from the faded volumes. A light layer of dust coated the pads of his fingers. He hadn't been in there for a while.

Rubbing his fingertips together, he kept moving, this time heading towards the massive oak desk. Still humming his light, airy tune, he plopped down onto the spinning chair behind the desk. Kicking off from the ground, he placidly twirled around and around. He leaned back into the chair. The leather had become soft over time. He was covered in a blanket of tranquil listlessness.

Just like many of the other rooms in the large house, the study hadn't been occupied for ages. It was commonplace though that many of the rooms were unused. It was just him and his brother who lived on the property. Losing momentum and slowing down, he pushed his foot against the sturdy desk and picked up speed again. Their guardian, Antonio lived with the twins as well. He had moved in to care for them when they were young boys. Their parents had been out of the picture for most of their lives.

As the chair slowed down once again, Feliciano sleepily hummed and leaned back even further into the chair. Where was Antonio anyway? He hadn't been home for the past few days. He was starting to get worried.

"Ow!" he exclaimed when his knee bumped hard against the desk. Starting to feel dizzy anyway, he stopped and rubbed his throbbing leg. He tried opening the desk drawer but it wouldn't budge. Locked. He stretched his arm and dug around in the fancy pencil holder. His fingers brushed the small metallic key and he pulled it out. When he managed to get the drawer open, his eyes widened and the song died on his lips.

"What?"

Meanwhile downstairs, the scent of chicken lasagna wafted through the air. Lovino wiped his hands on a rag and hung it on the edge of the counter. He double checked the oven timer and with a content smile, flicked off the lights and wandered out of the kitchen. He collapsed onto the couch and yawned loudly. Kicking his feet up onto the sofa, he nuzzled into the soft cushions. He had half and hour or so to catch some shut-eye before the lasagna needed to be taken out.

Letting his heavy eyelids flutter shut, he called out to his brother. "Hey! Feliciano!" No answer. He waited a minute before calling out again, this time louder. "Hey!" A few more seconds of silence passed before his brother decided to reply.

"Yeah?" his slightly muffled voice came from upstairs.

"Feliciano! Stop ignoring me!" then more quietly under his breath, "Damn bastard, always does this." the rest of his statement turning into a yawn.

"What? I said what!" Feliciano shouted from upstairs, not budging an inch. There was no way he was going to come all the way downstairs when he could hear him just fine from his spot.

"Dinner's almost ready!"Lovino yelled before drifting off for a moment. "Get down here." he mumbled before being enveloped by sleep.

He was jolted awake by his brother's reply a few moments later. "Alright! I'll be down in a minute!" Lovino rolled his eyes and glanced at the clock.

7:50

He let his mind wander as he tried to stay awake. It was quite easy to get bored in their usually empty house. When he wasn't being annoyed to the point of wanting to combust by Antonio or his brother, he was either cooking, doing school work or sleeping. Speaking of Antonio, he hadn't seen his stupid face in a while.

"Wonder where that fucker is anyway." he mumbled to himself. "Probably off at Gil's or Francis's place." Unable to fight against the restraints of sleep, he succumbed to slumber once again.

Upstairs, Feliciano stared down at the sleek metallic object. It hadn't been there the last time he was in the room. Or had it and he just didn't notice? As if in a trance, he picked up the small revolver with strangely deft fingers. He turned the firearm in his hand and observed it as if he could see it on a molecular level.

His older brother's voice wafted into the room. Feliciano's mind flooded with a tsunami of thoughts. Where did it come from? Was it loaded? How come he'd never seen it before? He brought it closer to his face, careful to keep his finger away from the trigger.

"Hey!" Lovino yelled again. Distracted, Feliciano took a few seconds to reply.

"Yeah?"

He pulled the drawer open further and looked inside. Aside from a pad of branded paper, an old checkbook and a few sticky notes with safe combinations and account passwords, there was nothing else. He stuck his hand in and felt around the back corners but pulled back his hand to find nothing but more dust.

Lovino yelled louder this time. "Feliciano! Stop ignoring me!"

If there were no bullets in the drawer then that meant...The weapon suddenly felt heavier.

"What? I said what!" He raised his voice.

He looked back down at the gun and stared for a few more seconds. Then, as if someone snapped their fingers and awoke him from a trance, a sense of panic began to swell within him. He was holding a gun! A loaded gun that had appeared out of nowhere! He nearly dropped it and his heart thudded painfully against his chest. He didn't want to accidentally set it off. Shaking his head, he slowly lowered the gun to the desk, the quivering of his hand making it seem like it was dancing.

"Alright!" he replied to the shout of dinner being ready. He wiped his hands on his shirt and took a step back. "I'll be down in a minute!"

He fell back into the chair, suddenly feeling exhausted. Did Lovino know about it? Antonio? He stared at the revolver and gulped. Minutes passed by quickly as he zoned out and he jolted back to reality when his eyes had wandered to the clock.

8:45.

Why hadn't Lovino said anything? Raising his arms to the ceiling, he stretched till he heard his joints give a satisfying crack. He giggled. That had always freaked his brother out. As he was about to leave the room, movement outside the window caught his attention. His shout of panic was muffled by the pandemonium that followed.

Lovino's heart had never pounded so hard before. One second he was laughing and sitting in a warm garden with his late grandfather, the next he was sitting up on the ground, heart racing and mind frozen. His dream was cut short by the thunderous clangor that made the building quake. He sprang up from his spot on the ground, legs quivering violently. The adrenaline furiously coursing through his veins allowed him to completely miss the large gash on his forehead and the blood dripping from the corner of the coffee table.

"Feliciano!" He spun around madly, panic muffling his rational thinking. "Feliciano!"

"Lovino! Are you alright?!" His footsteps pounded down the west staircase, his legs moving faster than his racing heart.

"I'm-" Lovino stumbled over his words, his throat felt like a desert. "I'm alright!" After a few seconds he opened his mouth,"Come to the living room!" He'd run to his brother if his legs weren't quaking so damn hard. The house was completely silent, as if a colossal force hadn't slammed into it seconds ago.

Feliciano dashed into the room and practically tackled his brother. If it was any other moment, Lovino would've noticed the lump in his brother's waistband.

"It's it's it's so crazy!" Feliciano struggled to speak. It was as if he wanted to get the words out before his brain even processed them. He gestured wildly towards the east side of the house. "A truck! A truck drove into the back of the house!" he gripped Lovino's arms and began to pull him out of the room. "We we have to get out of here, quick before-"

"Wait, what?!" he jerked his arm away and stood still. "A truck?" Lovino didn't understand. How the hell could a truck crash into the house? "Did you see who was driving it?"

His words were stolen by the darkness that engulfed them without warning. Lovino gripped his brother's arm tight, quivering madly. "What happened to the power?" he squeaked. There was a clangor of noise and they tensed. It was coming from the back of the villa. There was a slam and then the clank of something wooden being thumped onto the ground. Someone panted heavily as they moved around, not bothering to be quiet at all.

"There's someone inside!" Feliciano gasped.

"Damn, where's that stupid Antonio when you need him!" Lovino whimpered, his voice wavering. 

The twins stood rooted to their spot, too petrified to move. The sounds got quieter and quieter as the person moved away. Eventually all was silent again in the house, except for their loud, ragged breathing.

"Do you think they're gone?" Lovino managed to get out. Feliciano didn't answer. Lovino took the chance to try and get his shivering body under control. He was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane.

"I'm gonna call that bastard Antonio." Lovino declared, but he didn't move. Feliciano still remained silent. "What was he thinking, leaving us all alone!" he complained, more to himself than to his brother. Still, he didn't budge.

"Hey," he inquired softly, turning to look at Feliciano. With the combination of the streetlights outside and the weak moonlight, he was able to make out the figure of Feliciano. The dim lighting lit up his glistening unshed tears. He held a finger to his lips and pointed to the side. Lovino cocked his head in confusion.

"Wha-"

"Ssh. They're walking around the house." Lovino focused and heard someone scrambling around the bushes on the side of the house. After every step the intruder took, there was a hefty clank. It sounded as if they were walking with a wooden cane or staff.

Prompted by the sudden fear of death, the brothers darted towards the opposite side of their spacious home. It was like trying to run around in a dark maze. Not wanting to make too much noise they stopped and ducked behind a wall.

Suddenly, far away at the front of the house, there was the jingle of keys and then a slam. They stared at each other in silent horror. Had the person gotten inside? Unbeknownst to them, the keys were turned in the knob once again, locking the door. 

"Lovi? Feli? Boys, I'm back!" a warm Spanish accent shattered the silence.

Lovino almost cried out in relief and began to move towards Antonio when Feliciano gripped his arm tightly and roughly pulled him back. He firmly shook his head and raised his finger to his brother's lips before he could speak. Lovino gave him another quizzical look and waited for his twin to explain himself.

"Boys?!" Antonio cried out again, much louder this time.

Feliciano tapped his ear and then pointed in the opposite direction. Lovino shook his head to show that he didn't understand.

"The footsteps are gone." he breathed into his brother's ear.

"Aren't you gonna greet me boys? I've been away for a while~" he cooed as if speaking to toddlers.

Before Lovino could say anything, Feliciano looked him dead in the eye and murmured under his breath, "Antonio was driving the truck."

"COME ON OUT BOYS!" he roared angrily now, slamming something hefty onto the ground. "I've missed you both so much!"

Lovino almost wet himself on the spot. Feliciano clamped a hand over his mouth to muffle his cries. They huddled together in the dark, quivering like scared bunnies.

Antonio was never one to raise his voice. Hearing him bellow with so much fury in his voice shook the boys to their cores. There was another crash as something else was knocked over. The footsteps and the hefty clanks resumed. He let out a boisterous laugh as he came closer and closer to them.

"Come on, guys, it's _me_! I just wanna see you guys!"

Lovino grabbed his brother's hand and darted out of their hiding spot. As they ran towards the way they had just come, they caught a glimpse of their guardian. His back was to them and he was leaning on something large and wooden. For a second it looked like a staff, but then the moonlight caught the item and they noticed the shimmer of a blade. Where the hell would he find a weapon like that?!

"Are you scared that I'll hurt you? I promise it'll be quick, you won't feel a thing!" He swung around when Feliciano stumbled and bumped into the coffee table.

"There you are!" he charged at them with a horrifying speed, not at all slowed down by the huge weapon he carried. The boys took off to the west staircase and sprinted up the stairs, their unnatural speed giving them the upper hand.

"In there!" Lovino whisper-shouted before opening the closet door and darting inside. He shut the door as quietly as possible and they moved to the back corner, listening as Antonio went ballistic and began wrecking the house after they ignored his calls.

~~~~

"He's fucking lost it!" Lovino whispered to his teary-eyed brother who nodded in reply.

"Are we going to die? Is Antonio going to kill us?" Feliciano asked.

Those words struck Lovino. He couldn't really place a finger on it, but something within him snapped. Maybe it was the way Feliciano's voice was quivering. The way his fingers were digging into Lovino's shirt. Or how his eyes were brimming with tears. A newfound whisper of bravery was surfacing from under the ocean of paralyzing fear that had seized him moments before.

Scowling, Lovino shook his head. "No way." He clenched his fists, trying to stop the tremors that shook his body. His chest ached with each pound of his heart. Maybe he should just...

He shook his head to rid the loud thoughts of cowering and continued. "That crazy bastard won't catch us." Pushing down his fear once again, he counted backwards from three. He made to stand up and Feliciano's eyes widened in panic.

"I'm just checking." Lovino reassured him. Feliciano let go of his brother's arm but his amber eyes remained wide and alert.

He stared at his older brother's back as he creaked the door open and peeked out. A few seconds later, he poked his head out into the hall and swung it from side to side. The muffled cries and mad giggles of Antonio picked up again after the sound of more wood being struck on the floor above them.

If they were fast enough, they could dash back down to the first floor and out the front door. Lovino gestured wildly for Feliciano to exit the room. The moment they stepped out of the cramped closet, they were slapped in the face with a wave of heat. Lovino latched onto the railing to support himself and quickly retracted his hand. Feliciano slowed down when Lovino stopped in front of him, staring down at his hand.

"What is it?" Feliciano hissed.

Lovino didn't answer and his chest was visibly heaving. He wiped his hand on his shirt and kept moving. Feliciano touched the railing and drew back his fingers when they felt something wet. He brought his hand to his nose and cringed at the metallic scent. He shook it wildly in a mix of panic and disgust. Whose blood was that? He flinched when Antonio made a high pitched sound and darted down the stairs after his brother.

Antonio's crazy monologue rang throughout the house. It seemed to echo from everywhere, bouncing against the walls and shaking the house. It did not fly past their ears like it would to anybody else. Having been raised by the Spaniard, the Italian twins understood both languages.

When they reached the bottom of the staircase, there was a dim glow of a dancing orange light that lit up the level. It went unnoticed to the twins though, as their minds only focused on their exit and the man wreaking havoc two floors above them.

"Go, go, go!" Feliciano urged, his hand pushing Lovino's back. Sweat matted his hair to his sticky forehead and he assumed the panic was what made it feel so hot. They dashed down the large halls and ran across poorly lit rooms, jumping and steering around expensive furniture.

As they neared the dining room, Lovino slammed open the double doors and sprinted into the dark massive room. The sound of a yelp behind him was cut short and it was followed by a thud. He stopped in his tracks and spun around, wildly searching the room.

"Feliciano!" he whisper-shouted. His heart was still racing, slam after slam, banging against his chest. "Feliciano where are you?!"

One second Feliciano had been racing after Lovino, and the next, he was on the floor gasping for air, his ribs throbbing. In the dark, he had rammed into the edge of the extravagant dining table. The corner had smashed against his ribs and knocked the air out of him. He rolled onto his side and wheezed.

Lovino's foot bumped against something warm and he crouched down when he realized it was his brother. "Hey, hey!" he grabbed his shoulder and shook him. "Come on, get up! We don't have time to lay around!"

Feliciano stuck out his hand and Lovino grabbed it, hauling him up. His skin felt hot and after the contact was when Lovino noticed how his own body was heating up. His shirt clung to him and it felt like he was being slowly suffocated. He opened his mouth to say something when the sensation of sandpaper violently being rubbed against his throat made him cough.

"Let's go, I'm okay." Feliciano insisted, his face flushed. This time he was in the lead. There were two exits. The double doors on the right led to the kitchen. The entrance way on the left led to the front hall and the front door. As they took off, they didn't notice the smoke billowing out from the crack under the kitchen doors.

Lovino urged his brother to move faster. He was barely able to stumble forward at this point and had an arm wrapped around himself. He must've been really hurt. Well, it wouldn't be a problem for long, Lovino thought to himself. They were seconds away from freedom.

Relief swelled in their chests as they neared the exit. With a new sense of hope, they surged forward. He had ran so fast that he crashed into the door, but that didn't slow him down. Lovino frantically turned the door knob.

"Come on, God dammit!" he wildly wiped his hands on his shirt and tried again. Heavy footsteps thudded down the stairs at a pace that made Lovino's hands shake and Feliciano's whimpers to kick up again.

"Locked? It's locked!" Lovino shrieked. His mind refused to accept it and he continued to jiggle the doorknob. It was one of those doors that could only open with keys. "Keys! I need to find the keys!" he whispered frantically. If locked, without keys it was impossible to get out. A loud bang rang from the kitchen and that's when their adrenaline-run minds remembered the long forgotten dinner in the oven.

"Fire!" Feliciano squeaked. "The house is on fire!" The footsteps thundered down the stairs even faster after their exclamations.

"Where are the fucking keys?!" Lovino shrieked, completely losing what little composure he had before. All this shit that they went through only to find that the door was fucking locked!

Lovino scanned the table beside the door for the keys but they were nowhere to be seen. Feliciano was banging on the door, knowing that it wouldn't do anything but still doing it nonetheless. He spotted the car keys and on impulse he grabbed them and shoved them into his pocket.

The sweltering heat and the smoke that was slowly filling the building, along with Feliciano's frantic banging and Antonio's heavy pounding footsteps made him want to combust on the spot. Tears pricked his eyes as his brother fell to his knees and weakly pounded on the door, now shouting for help.

"There they are! Italy! Come to big brother Spain!" the twins jumped and spun around. What little hope they had shriveled and died at that exact moment. There he stood, at the top of the east staircase that led to the other side of the house where the truck had crashed. His clothes soaked in God knew whose blood, his bright green eyes shining with madness. In his right hand was a bloodied battle ax as tall as himself.

For a second, they were all silent, staring at each other. It was similar to those moments in the wild, when the predator stared down the prey, each waiting for the other to make the first move.

"Why is he calling us that-" Feliciano chirped.

"Forget that, run!" His brother interrupted, giving him a shove to get him moving and they took off.

"Why are you running from me? I just want to give you a hug!" He laughed as he bounded down the stairs, wildly swinging the ax.

What had been a quiet night at home had turned into a deadly game of cat and mouse.

In a split second, they made a choice and dashed to the east side of the house. The fire had quickly spread to the dining room and the rest of the west side when the oven exploded. This meant that they'd have to escape through the bathroom window. The only other room with windows on that floor had been the living room and it had already gone up in flames.

They darted into the bathroom but the giant was on their tail. "Go!" Lovino basically shoved his brother onto the toilet. As Feliciano scrambled to stand on the toilet and smash the window open, Lovino held the door shut. He pressed all his weight against it, his chest heaving wildly.

Feliciano ignored the fiery sting in his knuckles as he punched out the remainder pieces of glass in the window frame. When the glass was cleared, he stood on the tank cover of the toilet and placed his forearms on the window frame, hoisting himself up. The cool breeze that hit him the second his head and shoulders were outside was a nice contrast to the sweltering heat on the inside. He almost let himself relax for a second but quickly snapped back to reality when Lovino shouted for him to hurry the hell up.

The entire door shook as Antonio pounded on it teasingly. He could easily smash it down if he wanted to. Lovino dug his feet into the rug and pushed back against the door, alarm swelling within his chest.

Feliciano grunted in pain as his thrumming ribs rubbed against the window sill. The frame was hardly big enough for him to squeeze through and the metallic object in his waistband pressed into his hip bone and caused him more pain. When the sound of splintering wood and a shrill shriek filled the room, he jerked one final time and tumbled onto the damp grass outside. The glass dug into his legs but at the moment it felt like tiny pinches. His attention was focused on the bathroom. He stuck his arm back in the window and shouted for Lovino to grab on.

Lovino had jumped back with a shriek when the ax split the wood. One second longer and the weapon would've slammed into his spinal cord. Antonio seemed to find this funny, as he was in hysterics. Another swing of the ax and the door came crashing down.

Lovino desperately scanned the room and switched to the offensive, throwing everything he could get his hands on. From shampoo bottles, towel racks to rolls of toilet paper. Some of these hit Antonio but had no affect on him. He simply advanced forward, laughing wildly and watching with amusement. Lovino was in tears and he blindly chucked whatever he could get his hands on. He was aware of his brother's hand waving from the window, shouting for him to grab on but he was afraid to turn around and leave himself vulnerable for the few seconds it would take for him to squeeze out of the window.

Finally, he grabbed the hefty toilet tank cover and smashed it onto his attacker's head. Antonio crumpled and crashed into the bathtub, taking the shower rod and curtain down with him. Lovino took the chance to scramble onto the toilet. He almost lost his balance with the way his legs were violently trembling but he managed to steady himself on the edges of the toilet tank. His forearms trembled as he leaned his weight on them and began to hoist himself up. His foot slipped when he lifted one hand to latch onto Feliciano's and his foot dunked into the water.

Even with Feliciano pulling and his own squiggling, he still couldn't get out through the thin space.

"Pull! Pull me out!" he screeched.

Feliciano grabbed his arm with his free hand and dug his heels into the slippery grass. Lovino grit his teeth and tried to ignore the burn in his shoulder as he slowly slid forward. His head and torso were outside while his legs were inside. His waist rubbed against the window frame. He grabbed onto Feliciano's shirt with his other hand and tried pulling harder. His screams went high-pitched when another pair of hands latched onto his ankles and pulled him back in through the window without much effort. He slipped right through as if he was covered in butter.

"My tomato thought he could escape, no?" Antonio cooed as he grabbed onto the boy's trousers and flung him onto the ground. Lovino's throat was hoarse from screaming, but he hollered even louder when Antonio sat on his legs to straddle him.

Through bleary eyes, he stared up at his once-sane guardian. His expression was a strange blend of anger and amusement. They say that the eyes are a window to one's soul. In this case, the saying did not fail. If one were to look into those emerald eyes that used to light up with joy all throughout the day, they would see how the spark was now replaced with an eerie, ominous glow. The glowing eyes seemed to withhold untamed and insurmountable fury. Despite this, he was giggling like a child who was eagerly waiting for his friends to find him in a game of hide-and-seek. His brown hair was sticky with blood that ran down his forehead and dribbled down his chin and onto Lovino's cheek. 

For some unknown reason, staring at the boy kindled his rage. His lips grew into a wide cheshire grin and he stroked Lovino's hair in a way that once was loving. "Say goodnight~" he cooed before hefting the large ax above his head. Just before he could slam it down and crack his chest plate open, a loud bang cut through the giggles and screams. Antonio stilled, his eyes widening. His grip on the ax loosened and with a mighty clank, it fell a whisker away from Lovino's head. It took three more shots for the giant man to sway to the right and fall to the floor.

Too traumatized to move, Lovino stared at the un-moving body lying on the ground beside him. If one ignored all the blood, the dead man could've been mistaken for a slumbering man. He gaped at Antonio, his mind still trying to catch up with what had happened.

Outside, Feliciano dropped the pistol and scrambled back inside. He knelt next to his brother and nudged him.

"Lovino," he tried. The other boy did not budge. Lovino knew they had to exit they building before they all burned to death but he couldn't will himself to move. Feliciano grabbed his arm and gingerly pulled him up into a sitting position. "Hey," he said to him gently. "We're safe now." he reassured. He startled when Lovino firmly grasped his shirt and pulled him in for a tight hug. Over Lovino's shoulder, he stared at Antonio. He looked peaceful. It was strange. He felt his brother's tears wet his shirt.

If this was any other day, he would've been ecstatic. Lovino would never allow his brother to hug him and the few times he managed to sneak up on him, Lovino would throw a fit until Feliciano let go of him. This was different though. He yearned to get up and leave the house to get away from the fire and from Antonio's corpse but he bit his tongue and let his brother have his moment.

Lovino shook with quivers as he silently sobbed and Feliciano could no longer stare at his dead guardian. He dropped his gaze to the bloodied ax and let his shoulders heave with exhaustion. As the sirens in the distance steadily grew louder, he dug his face into Lovino's shirt to block out the choking stench of smoke that billowed in from the doorway. He wanted to pull Lovino to his feet and throw him out the window but he couldn't find it in himself to speak up. Seeing his twin fall apart like this made his heart ache.

They stayed like that for a few more minutes but to them the moment dragged on for a long while. The firefighters knocked in some of the bricks surrounding the window and the hole was now big enough to crawl through comfortably. The weary boys were carried out of the crumbling villa. In silence, they sat in the back of an ambulance, huddled together under a shock blanket. The policeman's questions became background noise as they watched some firefighters pull Antonio's still body from the hole they had created.

As they looked on, watching the man who raised them get fastened into and rolled away on a stretcher, a small flicker of movement made their hearts drop to their stomachs. Nobody else witnessed it, but the one arm that hung over the side of the stretcher, flexed its fingers before going limp again. They could almost hear the high pitched giggles and nonsensical gibberish as the ambulance drove off into the night.


	4. Potions Brewed In The Dark

Arthur stood in his yard, watching the fire fighters put out the flames that had devoured his once lovely home. Scowling at the charred remains of debris, he crossed his arms. He glanced at one fireman nonchalantly gripping a hose. Not even his prize-winning flower beds had been spared.

How had this happened? It couldn't have been a mistake. He was too experienced to make a silly little mistake that would end up with devastating consequences such as this. Had he been sabotaged? Honestly, who would do that? He was sure he didn't have any enemies at the moment–well any who could pull _this_ off. His face scrunched up, he shook his head. There were too many thoughts going through his mind at once and now was not the time to sort them out.

He wanted to chase the noisy passers-by away. A group of people had assembled in the lawn, curious. They stood together in groups of two's and three's, whispering and murmuring to each other. What had happened to Arthur's home they wanted to know.

"Hey, Bushy Brows, what nonsense did you get into this time?" Arthur rolled his eyes at the approaching Scotsman.

His next-door neighbor, Allistor, was a tall man who was fond of those big, old cigars. With an amused sneer on his face, he sauntered over in large strides. He puffed smoke into the irritable Englishman's face and Arthur coughed, showing him rude hand gestures while pounding on his aching chest.

Allistor was grateful that the fire hadn't reached his own house. He thanked whatever bloke decided to make rather spacey gaps between the houses in the neighborhood. If they had all been connected the whole block would've been up in flames by now.

He eyed the firemen putting out the last of the flames and the crowd that had started to gather. "Well?" He turned back to Arthur who had finally stopped coughing. "We're waiting to hear how you managed to burn your house to a crisp!" This had caught the attention of the others and they turned to the two.

Arthur glared at him. He was clearly trying to embarrass him. With a sigh and an eye-roll, he gave in and reluctantly narrated the story.

~~~~

It had started off as a pretty fine morning. It was one of those rare days where the sun shone brightly, a nice break from the usually dreary weather. Arthur awoke to the birds singing and the chipmunks chattering. For some unknown reason, he woke up feeling lighthearted and cheery. Perhaps it was the atmosphere. He looked out the window and saw some fairies happily chasing each other, darting in between branches and avoiding the squirrels. Not really paying the airy feeling any mind, he hopped out of bed.

Slipping on his housecoat, he went about his usual morning routine. He set the kettle on the stove and turned the knob, setting the fire to low. He opened up the windows to let some fresh air into the house. Humming under his breath, he unlocked the front door and stepped out into the yard.

While his morning tea slowly cooked, he swept up the paper and read the headline.

'KILLINGS ACROSS THE CONTINENT POSSIBLY LINKED?'

With a frown, he skimmed the next few lines.

'Authorities are willing to believe that the killings over the past fortnight are somehow linked. Although having taken place in separate countries, all the homicides-' Arthur stopped reading and tucked the paper under his arm. He wasn't ready to start his day with bad news.

With the rolled up paper now safely in the large pockets of his housecoat, he picked up his watering can and proceeded to fill it up. An easy smile on his face, he poured the water onto his flowerbeds. The thought of the killings popped into his mind once again and he frowned. The murders had taken place in completely different countries and all the victims were just random civilians. There was no way they were possibly linked, but the paper said otherwise...

He pushed the thought out of his mind and focused on the task at hand. There was no way that it would directly impact his quiet life all the way up here in his secluded neighborhood. He needn't worry he told himself. He returned the watering can to its original spot and went back inside. 

After breakfast–which consisted of stale store bought pastries since his attempt at making himself oatmeal led to his kitchen almost going up in flames–he finished reading the paper and carried out the rest of his chores before going upstairs to freshen up.

By noon, everything else was taken care of and he had gone down to his basement. Making sure the door was locked behind him, he smiled to himself. With a wave of his hand, various fires burst to life, dancing securely within the confines of the lanterns. The darkness was chased off into the corners and he briskly walked across the room, his robes swishing around him.

"Now I can finally get started on my new project!" He declared proudly, brimming with excitement. He cleared off his aged wooden table and pulled his hardcover spell book from one of the crowded, dusty shelves. He opted for this grimoire instead of the smaller, leather-bound one that he always carried on his person. This one had older and more powerful spells, compared to the other one that had more simple, day-to-day spells. 

Leaning the book against a wooden bookholder, he carefully turned the worn pages. When he finally reached the desired page, he skimmed over the spell once more.

"The eye-opener spell! Once I cast this all those fools will see that I am _not_ crazy!" With a determined smile that looked slightly concerning in the dim light of the basement, he started his work.

Reading off the ingredients as he double checked the spell's requirements, his closest friends came to observe. The giggling Miss Fairy perched herself on his nest of disheveled blonde hair and the flying mintgreen bunny watched from over his shoulder.

"Just a short while now." he announced to the duo. "Then everyone shall be able to see you lot. Surely then they'll stop labeling me as a madman!" he said as he stroked the bunny's fur. Miss Fairy giggled from her comfortable spot in his hair and the bunny nuzzled against him. 

"What's so funny?" he snapped at the fairy who only replied with another giggle. He rolled his eyes and turned back to his work.

Along with him, the only ones who could see the supernatural were his two friends Lukas and Vlad. The three had been close for a very long time, since childhood, all of them born with magical abilities. The three were still good friends and often hung out in person. Now that he thought about it though, Lukas hadn't contacted him in weeks now. Last Arthur heard, he went to explore a crypt or something off in the far north.

He picked up a knife and removed it from its sheath, setting it down on the table. He walked over to the cupboard where he kept all his ingredients and scanned the shelves for herbs.

It was somewhat normal for Lukas to drop off the map for a week or so. He'd always pop back up out of nowhere and pick up where he left off as if nothing had happened.

"Aha!" he exclaimed, grabbing the bundle of the dry plants and making his way back to the table.

But still, it was quite odd that he hadn't reached out to them while on such a trip. On top of that, he had insisted that he go alone, without any assistance from them. Arthur knew Lukas was far more than capable of taking care of himself and was one of the most exemplary magic users out there. He just hoped he didn't get himself mixed up in something he couldn't handle.

He'd be fine, he always was, Arthur tried to convince himself. He grabbed the knife and began chopping the herbs into thin strips. He'd have to ask if Vlad had heard anything later.

He chopped up the rest of the herbs and crushed the spider legs. He smashed the ginger and diced the roots. The newt eyes went in whole and the dried dragon scales were to be snapped into pieces.

"If only he put this much effort into his cooking!" Miss Fairy teased. The bunny burst into a fit of giggles and Arthur scowled.

"Shut it! I'm trying to focus!" Miss Fairy stuck out her tongue and tugged on his hair.

Ignoring the fairy's weak attempts, he turned to the final ingredient. Fairy dust. The jar was sealed tightly and placed in the center of the table, away from the cauldron. It was highly dangerous and if used improperly or exposed to air, it was explosive. Most people avoided it and almost never kept any in their homes. This was the only jar among the three friends, bought many years ago, yet it was only halfway empty.

Miss Fairy sat up straight, drawn to the hazardous substance and the bunny hovered a few paces back. Arthur gingerly lifted the jar and braced himself before twisting off the lid. He whispered a counter spell to contain the dangerous item's ferocious power and quickly stuck his hand into the jar. The particles stung his finger and thumb as he flicked a pinch of the golden dust into the cauldron. Any more and they could all kiss their lives goodbye. He hurriedly sealed the jar shut and brushed his hand on his robes, cursing under his breath as it nipped his skin.

"Burns hotter every time. Have no idea how you're drawn to that Miss Fairy!" he muttered, snapping her out of her trance. The bunny nodded in agreement. Making sure once again that the jar was sealed shut, he pushed it aside. He'd put it away right after the spell. 

He tossed in some cloves and then with a large ladle, he mixed the solution in the massive cauldron. Clearing his throat, he began to chant the spell.

"Santo Rita Meata Mator, Ringo Jolin Tito Marlin. Jack La Toya Janet Micheal, Dumbledora the explora!"

"Sounds like a lot of jibber-jabber to me." The fairy whispered. The bunny nodded in agreement.

"Are you sure about that spell? It sounds rather silly. Then again, you humans do have quite absurd magic. "

"Of course it is!" Arthur snapped. "And I'll have you know that our magic is not absurd." he sniffed indignantly and turned away from her.

"Anyway, it will be ready in an hour! As long as it doesn't overheat, it'll be alright." he adjusted the heat and took a step back to admire his work. He was tired of being ridiculed and teased whenever he tried to bring up anything about magic. Now all he had to do was give them a dose of the potion and all his problems would be solved.

Feeling quite pleased with himself, he challenged his companions to a race, lifting the hem of his robe as he dashed out of the roomy basement. What he didn't know was that as the fairy and bunny raced out after him, the lid of the Fairy dust was unscrewed and tossed aside, the golden particles inside exposed to the air.

Meanwhile upstairs, Arthur–who had lost the race and was currently being laughed at by the two– slipped on a coat and shoes–after discarding his robes of course–and went out for a walk. He tuned out the bunny's awful singing and enjoyed the sunshine that warmed his pale skin, Miss Fairy choosing to hitch a ride on his head and tugging on his locks every once in a while.

At the park he bumped into a shy Canadian fellow whose name slipped his mind. They talked for a while, catching up and exchanging pleasantries and then they bid farewell. Arthur walked home feeling rather smug. He took his time, strolling placidly down the street. A rather notorious child named Peter who had one-sided beef with him even bumped into him and shouted some choice words as he dashed away, but Arthur only chuckled and kept on walking, his easy-to-ruin mood still intact. His peaceful stride turned into a sprint when he heard a bang loud enough to penetrate the stratosphere.

By the time he made it to his yard huffing and heart racing, the fire fighters had arrived and were putting out the last of the flames. He stared in disbelief as more and more people walked over to watch the house burn.

~~~~

"So you're trying to say, your house burnt down because you cast a spell with your imaginary friends so that we could see them?" The big Scotsman asked, making Arthur's completely serious story sound like a joke.

"Were you not listening?!" Arthur scowled.

Allistor guffawed loudly, slapping his shoulder. Arthur turned back to what could only be described as a burnt husk with his face in his hands, feeling completely overwhelmed as more people joined in on the laughter while others eyed the so called 'wizard' warily. Never before had the neighborhood heard such a bizarre incident.


	5. Caught Red-Handed

He sat in the cold police cell, desperately trying to author some lies. In just a few minutes the officers would be back, waiting for an explanation as to why he had been caught loitering around the mausoleum behind the biggest cathedral in the country, in the middle of the night, loaded with a rifle and a bag of magical tools.

He stood up and paced around the empty cell, which consisted of a small, uncovered toilet in the far corner and a metal bench that was cold as ice. It had all started with a call from his good friend Mathias.

~~(earlier that day)~~

Tino pushed down with all his might, trying to get the small travelling bag to close. Leaning his weight on his elbow, he reached for the zipper and tugged at it.

"Come on!" he tugged and there was a yip. He looked up and saw his small white dog, Hanatamago looking up at him. Her head was cocked to the side, confused with what her owner was doing. "It's okay Hana, it'll close!" and with a last huff and a tug, the zipper glided shut. "See!" he smiled contently and slapped the bag. Wiping his brow, he heaved a sigh, glad that he had finally finished packing.

"Alright Hana," he let his eyes scan the room one last time before landing back on the fluffy dog whose tail wagged wildly. "Let's go now." The dog yipped and darted out of the room. Tino hefted up the overstuffed bag and walked out behind her, switching off the lights on his way out. He hummed to himself as Hana bounded down the stairs. Finally downstairs, he set the bag down by the door and crossed over towards the kitchen.

He had been packing for a trip up north to the snowy mountains for his yearly get-away to the ski lodges. It was a peaceful place that had the best spots for extreme winter sports and the hottest saunas. He had been going there for as long as he could remember. He was going to drop Hana off at his neighbor Eduard's place before leaving, an Estonian fellow who was pretty weird at times, but they were still somewhat close. Tino filled a glass with water and as he took a few sips, the doorbell rang. Setting the glass down on the counter, he went to open the door, shouting for Hana to stop barking at it already.

Tino swung open the front door and there on his doorstep stood a smiling dirty-blonde with glasses. "Oh, Eduard, what are you doing here?" he asked, taken aback by his friend's unannounced visit. Hana bounded out and jumped at the man, playfully nipping his hand. He opened the door further to let him in. 

Eduard shook his head and chuckled. "Oh no I can't come in! I was just going into town to do some shopping when I remembered you were to drop Hanatamago at my place. I didn't want you to come over and miss me, so I decided to pick her up myself." He bent down and rubbed Hana's snow-white coat.

"That's so thoughtful of you!" Tino beamed at his friend, a surge of gratitude swelling within him.

"It's no problem at all!" Eduard returned the smile. "It's on my way anyway." he scratched behind Hana's ears and the dog yipped happily.

"I thought you were staying in," Tino asked, stretching his arm towards Hana's leash on the coat-rack beside the door. "Did something come up?" He handed Eduard the leash.

"Kind of, yes. Raivis is going to be staying with me during his break and I just wanted to pick some things up before he gets here. He didn't really explain why, but he insisted that he stay at my place all of a sudden."

"Well, at least you two will be able to spend some quality time together." he smiled once again and grabbed one of the bags from the pile of suitcases. "Here's everything you'll need, I hope it won't be too much trouble."

"Not at all." The Estonian smiled, bending down to attach the leash to the dog's collar. Tino bent down as well to hug Hana goodbye. She licked his cheek and he laughed, rubbing her head. "Well, see you when you get back." he said with a wave.

Tino nodded and waved as well. "Thanks a million! See you later!" He watched them walk off for a while before closing the door. Well, now that Hana was with Eduard, all he had to do was double check the locks, make sure the faucets were shut and the electronics switched off. He was just about to do so when a violent guitar riff and thunderous drums shattered the silence. He rushed to the living room where he had left his phone. 

A smiling Dane's face lit up the screen. Tino cheered up at seeing the caller ID and accepted the call with a grin on his face.

"Oh hi Mathias! What's up?" he bounced on the heels of his shoes.

Mathias's reply was far from intelligible. His words were strung together as if he was rushing to get them all out in one breath. Tino tried to interrupt him, but Mathias talked on and on. It was difficult to make out exactly what he was saying, his words swallowed by the commotion of the market around him. Tino pulled the phone away from his ear when the speaker was almost split by loud caws and Mathias stopped to shout at someone. Tino seized this opportunity to try and get some clarity.

"Mathias! I can't understand you! Take a deep breath and try to calm down." 

"Calm down? Calm down?! How the-"

"Would you shut up-"

Tino furrowed his brow and pulled the phone away from his ear once again. Mathias started arguing with the other person again, (whom he later learnt was Mr. Puffin, Emil's talking pet). 

Slightly annoyed now, Tino let out a breath through his nose, but apart from the vexation, something else was creeping up in his chest. He could hardly understand what Mathias was saying, there was too much noise in the background and most of it coming from what sounded like a panicking Mr. Puffin.

"Mathias?" He called for his attention. "Mathias! Mathias, I need you to get a hold of yourself! Stop shouting, slow down and tell me what's wrong!" He kicked gently at the foot of his couch, waiting for Mathias to get a hold of himself. 

After a few more useless attempts at trying to get the commotion on the other end to die down, Tino managed to grasp the gist of the situation. Something about Lukas, Emil, a death threat and a haunted church. He stopped kicking and stood up straight now. The possibility of death caused a shiver to run down his spine. 

"So what do we do now?" Tino asked. He stared at the bags near the front door as he waited for Mathias to reply. His heart rate steadily picked up as the Dane tried to compose himself. Seeing- or rather, hearing, Mathias distressed like this was starting to make him nervous. "How long has it been?" he asked.

"I don't know, this damn bird just told me right now! Literally dove at me from the sky, pecking me and clawing me and shit!"

Tino interrupted before another squabble could break out. "Have you told Berwald yet?" He paced around the living room, his mind racing.

"No, I tried calling him a bunch of times but he won't pick up! He chooses now of all times to ignore me!" he growled some curses under his breath, his frustration almost tangible. 

"It's because you always bother the guy, what did you expect!" Mr.Puffin piped up.

Tino ran a hand through his hair and glanced at the clock. 

4:41 pm.

"Okay, look. How about you try to reach Berwald again? If he won't pick up, text him or leave a voicemail. I'll try to get a hold of him as well."

"Yeah, alright." Mathias agreed. "I'm at the market right now, I'm heading back to my car as we speak. Where are you, did you leave for your trip yet? We all have to meet right now!"

"No, I was just on my way out when you called-"

"Good, meet me at Berwald's as fast as you can, it's a life or death situation here!" And with that, he ended the call. Tino stared at the phone for a few seconds, trying to make sense of his racing thoughts. 

Lukas and Emil were trapped in a crypt of some sorts, with the possibility of dying. He was pretty sure he heard Mr. Puffin saying something about evil energy or something like that too. He pushed the nervousness to the back of his mind and patted his pockets. After making sure he had his phone, wallet and keys, he briskly strode out the door, towards his garage. There was no time for second thoughts now, his friends' lives were on the line and he wouldn't hesitate when there was the risk of death. 

He hopped into his car and reversed out of the garage. He typed in the co-ordinates and stared at the GPS. "Approximately twelve hours?!" and that was without pit-stops and if traffic was good. With a sigh, he buckled his seat belt and adjusted his mirrors. 

He reminded himself of Lukas and Emil and determination stirred within him. "Their lives are on the line. No time for complaining." After one more minute of hyping himself up, he drove out onto the road. "Good thing I filled up the tank. If I hurry, I can make it before traffic gets heavy."

~~~~

Berwald was a 'no nonsense' type of guy who could disarm anyone with his towering build and piercing gaze. He was also basically blind without his glasses so it was strange to find him sitting cross-legged on the floor in his own living room, with a soaking wet and very agitated Mathias towering over him, Berwald's glasses in his hand. Apparently, getting Mr. Puffin to snatch them off his face and Mathias threatening to break them was the only way to get him to listen. 

Mathias had showed up on his doorstep, unannounced with a ton of luggage at the crack of dawn, pounding on the door and demanding to be let in because it was 'an emergency'. Berwald simply slammed the door in his face and turned on the sprinklers to get him off his lawn. That's when Mr.Puffin was sent to fly in and steal his glasses. Tino's laughter died in his throat when Berwald sent him a glare. He stuck up his hands in defense and chuckled sheepishly. He turned back to Mathias who paced back and forth, his brows upturned and a scowl etched onto his lips.

Tino glanced at Berwald and then back to Mathias. His heart thrummed against his rib cage and the room was drowned in a wave of dread. Mathias let Mr. Puffin fill them in on how Emil had received a letter in the mail, telling him to come quick and save his older brother Lukas. Lukas's golden cross hair clip had been with the letter, proving that whoever sent it did indeed have him hostage. 

Now that Tino thought about it, he had never seen Lukas without the hair clip. Every time he saw him, he had it pinned on, holding back his golden locks. Tino was pretty sure he even saw Lukas talking into it once, something about a phone call from a troll. Tino had laughed it off as a joke at the time. Now it was right there before their very eyes, along with an old, beat up wallet that belonged to Emil. Something about a dark energy being released within the crypt. Mr. Puffin had also added that Emil had had a nightmare just before the letter was sent but he had refused to speak about it.

The three glanced at each other when Mr. Puffin finished speaking, not really sure what to say. They all knew how much Lukas was obsessed with magic and all that other crazy stuff but they never really _believed_ in it. He would disappear from time to time with his two other 'magical' friends off doing who knew what, and when he came back, Tino and the others wouldn't ask him anything about it. Lukas proved it real by showing them a couple of cool tricks, but, honestly they all found it a bit creepy and slightly unnerving but they never told him that. They accepted his quirky behavior and now they would save him.

Mathias managed to calm down a bit and went through his plan which was actually pretty simple. Just as they were about to start preparing, Berwald cleared his throat and stared intently at the carpet. "I couldn't hear you properly."

Mathias blinked. "What? What do you mean Ber? It's not like we were whispering the whole time!"

"I need my glasses." he said, quite seriously.

Tino met Mathias' eyes and then turned back to Berwald, waiting for him to elaborate.

Berwald looked up and stared at the confused Mathias. "I can't hear very well without my glasses."

Tino stifled a laugh and turned away while Mathias threw up his hands,"Sight and hearing have nothing to do with each other!" but tossed him the glasses anyways. They also accepted _his_ quirky behavior as well. Berwald put them back on, his neck and ears pink, murmuring how he needed to see people's mouths to hear what they were saying.

"Whatever, I'll explain again in the car, c'mon we're running out of time!" and they rushed to the car.

Berwald tossed in a few more ideas and with his new logic added to the plan, it was simply foolproof. Mathias rode shotgun beside Berwald who was behind the wheel and Tino was in the backseat, sorting out the weapons. He dug through 'the bag' searching for a rifle he knew he had tossed in there once. 'The bag' was the name they had given to Lukas's magical bottomless bag which could hold anything. His pet troll had hid in there for two months once. As he fumbled around inside the bag, tossing aside a jar of what looked like glowing blue dust, he spotted the weapon he desired and pulled it out, a smile on his face.

"Oh hey, Tino, look for my back-up ax in there. I forgot my original at Gilbert's place." Mathias piped up.

"Alright." Tino obliged, and set the gun down on the floor before turning back to the bag.

"Gilbert? You mean that albino guy who claims to be 'Prussian'?" Berwald asked, not turning his gaze away from the road.

"Claims?!" Mathias rolled his eyes, sounding offended as if he were the one being spoken of. "He's not _claiming_ anything, he _is_ Prussian!"

"Prussia is not a country anymore." Berwald stated simply, taking a second to glance at Mathias before turning back to the road. "It was dissolved decades ago and there can't be someone who is Prussian in this day and age."

Mathias scoffed and smacked Berwald's shoulder, earning him a glare. "Believe whatever 'facts' you want Berry. If Gilbert says he's Prussian, then he's Prussian."

It was Berwald's turn to roll his eyes and turn his focus back to the oncoming stop light.

"Found it!" Tino informed, completely ignoring their budding argument. "What do you want Berwald? Anything specific?"

"No, not necessarily. Just anything in there would be fine." he replied.

After hours of tense-nervousness, pointless arguments, urging and failing to convince Berwald to go over the speed limit because 'no one was around' and 'it was an emergency', they finally arrived, just as the sun disappeared from view.

They parked a block away from their destination and hurried down the streets, managing to avoid any prying eyes. The darkness of the night helped them blend in. They jumped the the tall fence and went around the church to the mausoleum in the back. After hefting open the mighty stone doors, Berwald and Mathias darted in. 

The night was inky black and silent. Too silent. It was as if any words that were uttered were swallowed by the dark void that pressed in on him from all sides. Tino paced back and forth, the leaves crunching underneath his boots. He was to stand guard outside. If they weren't out in one hour, he was to go in after them, guns blazing.

To say that the place was eerie was an understatement. It felt as if hundreds of invisible eyes were on him. Watching him from within the darkness, staring into his soul. There were silent susurrations of rustling leaves but there was no wind. When the sensation of being watched became too much to bear, he spun around to stare at the looming cathedral behind him. 

For a second, a harsh wintry wind blasted him from all directions, almost as if it were physically pushing him away. Despite being used to the cold, it chilled Tino to his very core. As suddenly as it had appeared, the wind died down, gone within a second. Tino shivered and rubbed his arms very much wanting to leave. He had no idea what had possessed Lukas to enter such a place. Shivering, he turned away.

Tino jumped when there was a sudden noise that shattered the deafening silence. Gripping his gun tightly, he scaled the perimeter of the huge mausoleum and made his way to where the sound had come from. His flashlight was supposed to be heavy duty yet he still found himself opening his eyes wide, trying to make out anything in the darkness. It was as if the blackness around him was swallowing the light. He let his hand run along the wall of the building, the rough stone irritating his palm. 

As he fumbled around in the darkness, the rustling sound picked up again. After a few seconds, Tino halted. He realized it wasn't the swishing of the leaves, but whispers that sounded suspiciously like his name. 

"Tino!" 

He shuddered but kept moving nonetheless. The man was extremely light on his feet and there were no obstacles in his way but somehow, he had tripped, flashlight flying out of his grip and shutting off.

His chest crashed into the floor with an unbelievable force, as if he had been thrown from high up. The breath was knocked out of him as he struggled to get up. There was the pressure of someone sitting on him and he felt a suffocating force wrap around his throat. His windpipe was slowly crushed as he fought the invisible power. 

"Tino!"

An icy breath blew onto his face, way too close for comfort. It fluttered onto his moist neck, cooling the sweat and causing him to recoil. Silent laughs were whispered into his ears and he shook his head, pounding his elbow into the force above him. His blows met air and he writhed on the ground, struggling to breathe.

"Tino!"

He could feel his eyes rolling back into his head and the weight on his torso doubled. His ribs dug painfully into the ground, his rifle painfully pressed up against his side. The invisible whisperers laughed with glee, their voices rising and falling, as if they were dancing around him. The frigid breath tickled his skin and he kicked his legs furiously. With his teeth clenched, he let out a shout and managed to turn onto his side, the relentless force refused to back down and rammed into him once again. 

"Tino! Tino! Tino!" The whispers couldn't even be called whispers anymore with how loud they were. 

He clamped his hands over his ears and let out another shout as a crushing pressure wrapped itself around his rib cage. 

"Tino!" 

He coughed and sputtered, his heart thundering in his chest. He gasped for air, and tried shouting for help, but his voice died in his throat when the pressure increased. If this kept up for any longer, his ribs would interlock and his organs would turn to mush. 

"Tino!"

Somehow in the scuffle, his rifle had been fired. The invisible strangler disappeared instantaneously and Tino coughed and rolled onto his back. He took in large gulps of air, and placed a hand on his throbbing chest, his heart trying to hammer its way out. When realization struck him, he sat up instantly, cursing under his breath. He had to get out of there as soon as possible, he was sure someone heard the gunshot and called the police!

The laughing picked up again, as if to mock him. "Tino!" the voices cooed.

Grabbing the walkie-talkie from his pocket, he held the button down and called for Mathias and Berwald. 

"Mathias, Berwald are you guys there? Can you hear me?" he tried again but got no answer. Knowing he was short on time, he shoved it back into his pocket and made to stand.

He stood up and felt the force wrap around his ankle, causing him to stumble and nearly fall down again. He kicked at it with his free foot, but it wouldn't let go. He could hear sirens in the distance now, getting closer by the second. 

"Tino!" 

Huffing, he dragged himself to the front of the mausoleum, heaving the heavy weight of whatever entity had hold of him. Finally having reached the entrance to the stone building, he banged on the doors and shouted for Mathias and Berwald. 

"Tino!" 

He was running out of time! He banged and tugged at the circular metal handles. It was no use! There was no way they'd be able to hear him! The red and blue lights lit up the dark night and he took a few steps back, before charging forward and slamming his shoulder into the massive doors. He tried again and stopped when a jolt of pain racked his arm. This whole time, the laughs around him grew merrier and louder, as if they were enjoying a show. 

There was the crunch of gravel and Tino knew the cruisers had pulled up at the front of the church, he was left with seconds. He looked around wildly.

"Tino!"

Head spinning.

"Tino!"

Heart thrumming. 

"Tino!"

Sweating. 

"Tino!"

Panicking. 

"Freeze! Hands in the air! Drop your weapon!" His heart stopped and so did the whispers. The force slid back into the shadows and he was left alone to face the law. 

"Fuck." Tino cursed under his breath. He dropped his gun and raised his hands above his head. He stared at the heavy stone doors, a thousand thoughts running through his mind. Two officers came up from behind him and slammed him into the doors. He was handcuffed and escorted away. He didn't notice how badly he was shaking until one of the officers gripped his shoulder.

Tino couldn't help but glance back at the mausoleum as he was led back to the waiting police car. What would Mathias and Berwald do if they came out with the others and didn't find him? Or what if they didn't come out in the one hour and needed him? Who would let them out, they were all stuck in there! Wha-

"Keep it moving!" he was shoved forward and he turned away, his mind racing and his heart heavy.

~~(Present)~~

He stopped pacing and stood still when two officers approached. He shoved his shaky hands into his pockets and shot them a big sheepish smile. Both officers had green eyes but that's where their similarities ended. The blonde one with an extra shiny badge spoke first, as he chewed strawberry flavored gum. 

"Alright Tino Vain..amo–amoi...Vainamoma–how the heck do you even pronounce this name?" he blew a bubble and turned to his partner, jabbing at the clipboard. The brown haired officer rolled his eyes and sighed. "What, I'm serious!"

The brunette took a key chain from his belt and unlocked the door. "You better have a good explanation Mr. Tino." he said as he stepped aside to let the other officer in. 

Tino swallowed and fished for an excuse. He smiled, trying not to lose his patience. He was busy stuck in this damned police cell while the others were trapped in that crypt with those whisperers. He needed to get out of there and back to the church now!

"Yeah!" the blonde added as he latched the handcuffs onto Tino's wrists. Tino let out a fake nervous chuckle. 

"Would you believe me if I told you I was spreading the word of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ?" he tried.

"No." the brunette said. The blonde one laughed, his eyes glinting like his shiny shoes. "That's even worse than the gift-card shop guy!"


	6. It All Started With A Box

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, back with another update. I changed Aph Wales' name and hair color in this. I know he's usually called Dylan, but I liked Owen better and I gave him black hair instead of red. Just wanted to say that beforehand to avoid any confusion. Enjoy! ^-^

Owen bounced his leg repeatedly as he sat in the uncomfortable chair. Eyes closed, he leaned his head into his palm, his elbow propped on the arm rest. The dull noise of the busy police station blurred together into an insignificant murmur as he sorted through his thoughts. He could feel the wooden frame of the chair digging into his backside through the thin, worn cushion. 

Every few seconds the disturbing memory would surface from the sea of panicked thoughts and he would try not to grimace as he sat there, waiting for the officers who were supposed to take his statement. There was the sound of chairs scratching against the tiles and some shuffling but Owen remained drowning in the chaos of his own mind. 

_It's all your fault._

The sound of a throat being cleared went unnoticed to him. The two officers glanced at each other and then back towards the dark-haired man across from them.

_Why are you even surprised it happened?_

He shook his head to rid of the thoughts and forcibly shoved them into a deep, dark corner of his mind, storing them away for whenever they'd undoubtedly burst out and plague his mind once more. 

Finally, his eyes snapped open at the sound of bubble gum being blown rather noisily. He looked up to see two policemen seated behind the cluttered oak desk before him. Owen's face heated up and he straightened up in the chair. The blonde one who was chewing the gum, Feliks–according to his shiny badge– reclined in his chair and put his feet up on the table as he blew another bubble. 

"Well, what's the story?" he asked, the strawberry scent of the gum washing over Owen. His brown-haired partner, Toris, held a clipboard in his hand, ready to jot down notes. He sent Owen an apologetic smile and gave his coworker an exasperated look before motioning for Owen to start. 

"I'm sorry Mr.Kirkland," he picked up his pen while Feliks rolled his eyes and blew yet another bubble. "Please, go ahead." 

Owen looked at the two, down at his bouncing leg and then back up at the snarky officer whose eyes glinted as he chewed his gum. With a nod, he began narrating the incident. 

~~( earlier )~~

It was a rather slow day at work. There weren't many customers, just a few here and there, spread out in the small, bright shop. Owen leaned his elbows on the counter in a placid manner and glanced around the shop, an easy grin on his face. 

Off to the far right, there was Nicola. A close friend to one of Owen's very best customers Vlad, who was doing some shopping for his probably not fully human friend. He was in the special herbs section, reading off a paper and looking like he wanted to be anywhere but there. He flinched when a potted plant shot out its seaweed-like leaves at him and smacked away the tendrils of another that had reached for his hair. Owen swallowed his amusement when the offended plant released a neon yellow gas and Nicola gagged and waved a hand in front of his face before rushing off. 

Then there was Gupta, the quiet Egyptian who was browsing the relics a few aisles away from the herbs. A brief look of startlement crossed his features when he looked at a particular rune but it quickly changed to excited delight when he leaned in closer, to better inspect it. His hand covering his grin and his eyes glimmering, he brushed a finger across the carving and laughed inwardly, as if a silent joke was shared between him and the hieroglyph. 

The minutes crawled by but the peaceful aura of the shop was maintained. Owen had kept himself entertained by watching the towering man who was obviously lost. He had wandered in a couple of minutes ago, his brows drawn back in confusion and his eyes glittering with curiosity. He was of powerful build, but nonetheless, his fingers brushed against the items like feathers floating in the wind. 

He perused the aisles, his mind finding it quite hard to grasp the reality of the strange items before him. He fiddled with the phoenix feathers which crumbled to ashes at his touch. His eyes had widened at that and he quickly looked around to make sure no one had seen him. The jars of pickled eyeballs were tapped at by his prodding fingers, and he ignored the highly explosive fairy dust, probably thinking it was glitter. 

Currently, he was meddling with an intricately designed teal and silver chest. It was small enough to fit in his hands but it was sealed shut. Wiping his palms on his shirt, he tried prying it open again. If he knew it held an eldritch spirit, imprisoned within layers and layers of equally powerful magic, he wouldn't be messing with it. 

"Just this cauldron please." Not worried about the man, Owen turned to attend to the customer. 

Arthur. Another good customer, who could really use an eyebrow trimming. He also happened to be Owen's younger brother. That didn't mean he was going to be favored though.

"Seventy six pounds?!" Arthur exclaimed, an incredulous look on his face. "Have you gone mad?!" 

"That's half what I paid at the wholesale. Now either take it or leave it, it's up to you Artie." Owen said, straightening up and extending his hand. Arthur glowered, and Owen smirked, already knowing what the outcome would be. 

"It's Arthur." he corrected. 

"Come on now, don't pinch your pennies _Artie_." Owen joked.

Giving in, Arthur dug into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, grumbling a string of obscenities just loud enough for Owen to hear. "Exorbitant twit. To think that there would be a family discount."

"In that case I'd make you pay twice as much." Owen countered, accepting the paper bills that were flung at him. Arthur's reply was a high-pitched, sarcastic laugh that Owen returned without missing a beat. Arthur rolled his eyes and leaned on the counter. 

"I'm planning to perform The Eye-Opener Spell." he said as Owen handed him his change. 

"Really now?" Owen asked. He closed the cash register. "That's a tough one."

"Indeed."

"Will you be able to handle it Artie?" He teased. 

"Of course I will!" Arthur shot back, very much offended. "And stop calling me that!"

"Whatever you say Artie." He turned to the shelf behind him as Arthur talked on. 

The more valuable items were kept here, closer to the cashier for safe keeping. His eyes scanned the items and settled on the snow white quill resting in a glass case. It was a feather from a Pegasus, a pretty rare find. Also, the core requirement for many crucial spells. Once Arthur was distracted, Owen picked it up and placed it inside the cauldron. He resumed his original relaxed position, arms resting on the counter. He proceeded to busy himself with examining his fingernails, barely managing to contain his excitement as he waited for the Englishman to notice. 

"Is that Antonio? What the bloody hell is he doing here?" Arthur asked, crossing his arms. Owen followed his gaze to the curious man who was still trying to open the box. His brow was furrowed and the veins on his arms bulged as he pulled with all his might. 

"Look at 'im go, he's pretty strong huh?" Owen commented. 

"What he _is_ is annoying." Arthur huffed. "How'd he even get in, he shouldn't even be able to see the shop."

"I guess he's one of the few wanderers that stumble upon us." Owen said with a shrug. He glanced at the man once more. He was starting to go red in the face with the amount of force he was using. 

"Whatever, it's not like he can actually open it or anything." Arthur murmured. He was the only other person who knew what the box held. He turned back to the counter, patting his pockets. "Well, I'll be off then-" he stared into the cauldron, mouth still parted.

Owen smirked and watched his younger brother reach for the feather, his face flushed. "Still think I'm an exorbitant twit then?" 

Arthur's face burned a brighter red and he was quick to frown. "Oh sod off!" 

"Come on, no need to get all embarrassed now Artie!" Owen teased, reaching out to muss Arthur's hair. 

Arthur smacked his hand away, feeling his face heat up even more. "Lay off, will you?" he huffed indignantly and ran a hand through his hair. Owen laughed and Arthur cleared his throat, unable to maintain eye-contact. 

"Thanks though..." he muttered in a small voice. He met Owen's eyes and held his gaze for a few painfully long seconds before looking away again. The embarrassment was almost crippling. 

"Don't mention it, Artie!" Owen gave him a big smile and laughed when Arthur showed him a rude hand gesture and stormed out. 

Owen took on an easy smile as the next customer stepped up. "Hello Natalya." The quiet Belarusian hummed in response and set her items down on the counter. As he scanned the jar of imported Elf spices, he caught a glimpse of Antonio. He still hadn't given up and Owen was starting to worry he might pry the box open with sheer force. 

Not tearing his gaze away from the struggling man, he bagged Natalya's items. "Thanks, come again!" he gave her a brief smile before turning back to Antonio. Maybe he should interject and ask him to leave? Or would that look suspicious? There was no way he could get it open, it was sealed with layers upon layers of magic. But with the way he was struggling, he was sure the chest would split open. There was the jingle of a bell and Owen turned towards the door. 

In walked a man wearing a long, black trench coat and a broad hat, his face obscured. Owen turned back to Antonio. He stretched his fingers before resuming his struggle.

No, there's no need to worry, Owen thought to himself. He won't get it open. It was designed to keep out even the most accomplished magic users. There was no way some regular old lost guy would pry it open. 

Feeling rather silly for having been worried, Owen once again leaned forward on the counter and listened to the quiet voices a few aisles away. Nicola had finally decided to ask for some help, after being assaulted by almost every plant in the store. Gupta was looking at the list and nodding along as Nicola explained something. 

It was a _really_ slow day at work. Owen glanced at his watch and sighed. Apart from the quiet murmurs of Gupta, there was silence. He closed his eyes and let the wave of placid tranquility sweep him up. And then, there was chaos. 

There was a sneeze. A crash. Shattering glass. A shout. A blade at his throat. Each event was within a second of each other. Each one was like a domino, crashing onto the next. 

Antonio sneezed and then gave his head a shake, as if he had just dunked it in ice water. A sharp pain thrust itself into his nostrils and caused a stinging pain from his nose to his head. He teetered to the left, and bumped into a shelf, sending a collection of jarred spirits and poltergeists to the floor just as the front windows were reduced to tiny glass crystals. 

Someone screamed and then there was the feeling of cool metal on Owen's throat. He stood there eyes wide, rooted to the spot. The sharp blade scratched at his Adam's apple and he tried not to gulp.

"This is a robbery! Everybody get down now!" Everyone dropped to the ground faster than a rock in water. 

Owen counted four masked hooligans in total. One by the door, on look-out duty. Two more scoured the aisles like crazy, knocking down everything in the process and the last one stood before Owen. He took a second to glance around the shop, making sure his customers were alright. 

Antonio sat with his knees bent, back resting against one of the gondola shelves, a dazed look on his face. Nicola crouched on the floor, wincing as he looked at the tiny crystals of glass that were digging into his skin. Gupta was at his side, arm thrust out protectively before Nicola. Good. Everyone was mostly alright. 

Owen tried to mask his fear and looked straight at the photo being shown to him. It was a teal and silver chest. 

"I need this box. I know it's here. Hand it over." the masked man commanded in an icy voice. "Now. Or you'll have a bloodbath on your hands." 

Owen's heart dropped to his stomach with the weight of a boulder when he noticed the chest, open and empty on the floor, inches away from Antonio. He stared into the robber's eyes and in the smoothest voice he could manage, "I've never seen it before in my life." Through the corner of his eye, he watched Antonio slowly cover it with his palm and shift it to his pocket. For a brief moment, he almost felt relief. 

"Don't lie to me Owen." he said sharply. 

And that was when dread squeezed its fist around the shopkeeper's heart. He let his hand hidden behind the counter fall limp to his side, ceasing the spell he had been casting. 

He knew that voice. He knew those eyes. He knew _him_. The robber _knew_ Owen and yet chose to do this anyway. Owen took a faltering step back, the disbelief shrouding his senses and hampering his reaction. Noticing that he had been identified, the robber took on an air of smugness, as if he had been waiting to be recognized all along. 

"Finally put two and two together eh, Owen?" His eyes gleamed, a complacent look dancing within the pools of his murky green irises. He pressed the blade against his skin until a bead of blood slid across the tip and slowly cascaded towards the hilt. 

Owen tried to speak, but upon parting his lips, even the air struggled to get out, as the cold blade dug into his skin. He was left with his mouth agape and his mind frozen in incredulity, barely registering the pain in his throat. He was unable to tear his eyes away from the betrayer. The robber watched the drop of blood as it was joined by a few more which moved at a faster pace. He clicked his tongue in disappointment when the initial drop didn't make it to the hilt first. Having lost interest, he looked up at Owen's face. 

"Does this sudden turn of events surprise you, friend?" his smirk was almost audible. Owen was glad the thin black ski mask was hiding the smug look he knew the robber had on his face. 

The sound of things being hastily thrown around in the shop was just audible over the frantic pounding of Owen's heart. 

"Ah, hey boss!" everyone turned towards the source of the shout. "I found it!" the second robber yelled from the opposite end of the shop. He waved the tiny chest around before pocketing it. The other robber dropped the jar he was holding and began rushing out after the one who had pocketed the chest. 

The betrayer turned back to his former friend. "Till we meet again, _Owen_." he drawled before drawing back the blade. And just like that they were gone. 

Owen's knees gave out and he fell to the floor, the betrayal coiling itself around him till he felt light-headed. The roar of blood thumped in his head and all he could do was blink. He brought a hand to his throat as the shop was engulfed in chaos. 

Antonio stumbled to the counter and crouched in front of him, his brow furrowed in worry. He placed a warm hand on Owen's shoulder and cocked his head, searching his face. The question "Hey _amigo_ , are you okay?" fell on deaf ears and he frowned. He waved a hand in front of Owen's dazed face and when he finally caught his attention, he handed him the box. He had to repeat his question three times but Owen finally shoved the cold, unforgiving eyes to the back of his head and heard him ask, "How did they get the box if I had it all along? Was it a fake?"

Just at that moment, the man in the black trench coat caught his eye and tipped his hat as he stepped out and Owen instantly knew that he had planted the fake. He nodded once before winking and disappearing out onto the sidewalk where passers-by had begun to gather. 

"Yeah, it was." Owen answered. He gave a half-hearted smile, the curious man's genuine concern gnawing away at the numbness the shocking betrayal had left behind. 

"What was in it?" he inquired, tilting his head, eyes glistening curiously. 

"Nothing, you saw for yourself." Owen lied as sirens rang in the distance. He gently gestured for Antonio to move his hand and made to stand. Antonio bounced to his feet so quick that Owen felt like _he_ had experienced whiplash. Offering an amiable smile, Antonio stuck out his hand and helped Owen to his feet. 

"Are you sure you're good, friend?" he gestured to Owen's throat. Owen rubbed it once more. Now that the adrenaline was gone, the pain was slowly starting to ebb away at his sliced throat. "I'll be fine, it wasn't too deep a cut." 

"Oh, well I'm glad you're okay _amigo_. That was really scary!" Owen continued to smile and nod as the other customers made their way towards him. 

But of course Owen couldn't tell the police all this. They'd have him in a rubber room faster than he could say "April fools!" so he lied. Again. 

"You mean they like, literally knocked you out with one hit and then trashed the place? Why would masked hooligans vandalize a gift card shop? _Lame_!" Feliks scoffed, blowing another bubble. He rocked back on his chair and threw his head back to stare up at the ceiling. 

Toris shot him a heated look before saying,"I apologize for his...rudeness. Feliks is a bit on the insensitive side." 

"Insensitive? Nah, I'm realistic. That story is absolute bull." he rocked back further and tried to balance the blown up bubble of gum on his lips. "I'm just sayin'." he said with a shrug.

Owen averted his gaze and decided instead to stare at his thumb. Toris on the other hand smacked Feliks in the ribs causing him to gasp loudly and the two front legs of his chair slammed back onto the ground. 

"Hey! Ya tryna' like, kill me or something?!" 

"I'm sorry you went through all that." Toris spoke over him with a curt smile directed at Owen. "Insurance should cover all the damage, you're free to go." Owen nodded and smiled politely before standing to leave. Too bad there was no insurance for magic shops.


	7. Looming Dangers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for disappearing, but school is back with loads of work so updates will be slow. Enjoy!

A dramatic but quiet sigh forced its way out through his pursed lips. His fingers danced on his cheek which rested in his palm. Vlad was bored. Bored and also a bit lonely. He absentmindedly stirred his coffee with one hand, the weight of his head causing his elbow to dig into the hard surface of the table. He didn't really come here that often, but it was a nice place and he stopped by every once in a while when he was free. Ignoring the knot of distress building up in his chest, he let his ruby-colored eyes scan over the peaceful civilians enjoying their time at the local cafe.

Customers sat in the bright, roomy building, enjoying warm drinks and fresh pastries. A group of teenagers sat huddled over a laptop, their books long forgotten and tossed aside. One of them exclaimed something only to be cut off and shushed by the others. They could hardly contain their excitement and barely managed to suppress their giggles. At the counter, next to where the baristas worked, some more customers sat chatting with the workers, slightly having to raise their voices over the music playing on the radio. Vlad wished he could be at ease like them. He raised the mug to his lips and took a large sip. He pretended not to notice the few people who had gone wide-eyed.

He was used to people freaking out about his appearance, with his carmine colored eyes and his slightly elongated canines. He was human, or at least he thought he was. He did typically normal human things and ate typically normal human food. He had no idea why he was born with red eyes and fangs and it didn't bother him either. As a matter of fact, he thought he was the best looking man around. Whenever people asked him if he was a mythical creature he would smile, flashing them his fangs and leaving them in doubt. It was his favorite hobby, along with hanging out with his ancient land's magical dwellers and his two other buddies, Lukas and Arthur.

At the thought of his friends, he once again took out his smartphone. He scrolled through his call log, most of the list made up of the same three names. After finding Lukas' contact, he pressed the call button and watched the screen. He didn't bother raising it to his ear, he already knew that the call wouldn't go through anyway. He stared at the dancing icon of the ringing telephone only for it to abruptly stop and the automated message began playing.

"Sorry, but the number you have dialed is not available. Please try again-" he ended the call and let the phone drop to the table with a clatter. With another bored sigh, he went back to stirring his coffee.

With the memory of Lukas came the strange wave of emotions again. A pang of worry and discomfort ebbed away at his heart. Lukas had been gone for a little over a month now. Some weeks ago when they last spoke, Lukas had brought up a crypt off in the far north. He had heard about some eerie things going on in there and all other magic users refused to go near it. He suspected it was some eldritch spirits haunting the place and wanted to find out more about it. Lukas had told Vlad that he wanted to do it on his own, and asked him not to come. Vlad didn't complain, he knew Lukas was far more than capable of taking care of himself and was certain that he'd be able to handle the job. He was an exceptional magic user and out of the three friends, Lukas was the expert who specialized in spirits and the sort.

The Romanian stared down at his gloved fingers as they tapped on the side of the warm glass mug. Vlad was confident in Lukas' skills and wasn't worried about him at all. And it was often normal for him to drop off the radar for a few days. He would always come back into the loop a while later, as if nothing had happened. So not hearing from him for a couple of days was no big deal. A week or two, was pretty normal every once in a while. But a whole month?

He watched in masked amusement as the two girls across the room tried to get a secret snap of his fangs. They both ducked their heads when he caught their eyes and one of them barely held back a fit of giggles.

His gaze dropped back to his phone. He wouldn't have been worried at all if it wasn't for the strange feeling that ate away at his conscience whenever he thought of magic. He couldn't describe what it was but every once in a while, at seemingly random times of the day, he would get hit with a sudden wave of somewhat tame panic. His stomach would twist itself into knots and his heart would thrum against his chest. His mind would be overridden with a feeling that he couldn't quite put into words. It was a mix of worry, anguish and anxiety. It made him extremely uneasy and pushed him to the brink of insanity. But at the same time, this maddening feeling felt passive, as if he were reading it happen to a character in a book, or watching it from far away rather than actually experiencing it. It was calm in a way. He was able to ignore it at times, but whenever it swallowed him, the feeling of oncoming doom was foreboding.

Now that he thought about it, it was strange how Arthur was unavailable as well. He somehow managed to reduce his home to ashes and his phone had been destroyed in the fire. That was completely understandable, but whenever Vlad tried contacting him using spells, just like with Lukas, the calls went unanswered. His heart clenched and began its wild dance again. His brows knitted and he was once again drowning in the wave of inexplicable feelings.

Was Vlad just being over-dramatic? He was just overthinking as usual, wasn't he? Lukas was fine, he told himself. He was probably just taking a break from magic and hanging out with his fellow Nordics. After all, he was closer with them anyway. And Arthur? Well, the man's house was literally burnt to a crisp. Of course he was unreachable, literally everything he owned was destroyed and he had nowhere to live. To say that he'd be busy was the understatement of the century. They had other things to be dealing with. Vlad scrolled through his call log and cringed at the amount of times he had called them. Was he coming off as clingy?

The strange feeling had worn off and was now replaced with a blow of loneliness. Arthur and Lukas were probably dealing with more important things and weren't lazing around and moping about like him. Vlad missed his best friend now more than ever. He was a Bulgarian fellow named Nikola and was also unavailable. He was currently out of town, running errands for Vlad. Vlad was more than grateful that his friend had offered to go on a wild quest all over the continent, looking for magical artifacts when he didn't know the first thing about magic. Vlad would have to go through his friend's wish-list before he got back.

He pouted as he switched apps and aimlessly scrolled through social media. He could really use Nikola's company and advice right then. He let out a half-hearted breath of air through his nostrils at a picture of fairies assaulting the unassuming locals. Bored with the device, he once again tossed it aside and took another sip of his coffee.

His eyes shot up and he looked towards the source of the horribly suppressed laughter and whispers. The two girls from before were still staring at him and fumbling with a phone. Their sloppy attempt at trying to sneak a photo of him erased the loneliness from his mind and he felt himself smiling but managed to hide it.

Fine. He was bored and wanted to see just how this would end. He yawned enormously and was satisfied with the squeals of excitement. Some more people had begun to watch and Vlad continued messing about at his table, pretending not to notice. He busied himself with staring at a magazine and made a show out of yawning every once in a while. All the while, he fought back a smirk. He had to battle his amusement whenever he made eye-contact with one of the on-lookers. They would go red in the face and fumble about, embarrassed that they'd been caught staring. One boy in particular nearly tripped and almost spilled his drink all over himself.

His game of 'how superstitious can the Romanians get' was cut short by the obscured figure who walked between the two tables. Without a word, he dropped a folded napkin onto Vlad's table and left the building, trying to be discreet.

Vlad barely had a chance to react as the man was gone just like that. Looking around and seeing that he was indeed gone, he picked up the folded tissue paper and raised a brow when he noticed that it was blank. He flipped it over but the other side was blank as well. Before he tossed it aside, he decided to try something. He activated his magic and once again looked at the paper, the concealing charm now gone. Scrawled onto the napkin in fine loopy script were the words;

_'You're being watched. Get out now. While you still can.'_

Immediately, the eccentric man rose to his feet, all former amusement wiped from his features. His heart began a wild dance and he scanned the room. All eyes were on him, for he had gotten up rather loudly. He tossed a few paper bills on the table and quickly exited. He was done with his drink anyway and he was starting to get weird looks.

Just what was going on, he thought to himself as he tried not to run. He slowed to a brisk walk and weaved through the crowded streets. Was he being followed? Surely whoever it was would lose him in this crowd. He turned onto a larger street and looked over his shoulder. Why was he freaking out so much? That man could've been lying anyway.

"Sorry," he stuck out his hands and shot a smile to the elderly woman he had almost bumped into. She recoiled at the sight of his fangs but Vlad was long gone at that point.

No, he was sure it wasn't a lie. Whoever that man was, he had known Vlad had ties to magic. And it wasn't like Vlad was parading around the streets shouting for all to hear that he was a magic user. They'd have him locked up faster than he could claim it was a joke. He only shared that information with the few other magic users he knew.

The inexplicable sensation once again enveloped him and paranoia erupted within him. The looming feeling that something horrible was going to happen made him sick to his stomach.

"'Scuze me!" he raised his hand at the driver who braked hard to stop from running Vlad over. The driver's insults were muffled by the blaring of their horn. He jogged across the street and once on the sidewalk, turned onto another road.

He could almost hear the gears and cogs in his head turning as he madly fought to comprehend the situation. He exclaimed as he began to connect the dots. He _knew_ something wasn't right.

Just two nights ago, a similar note had appeared on his bedroom window. Taped onto the outside of the glass, it had read _'Run.'_ Yesterday, all the spells in his spell book had been rearranged to read, _'Leave. Now.'_

Being a rather jocular person himself, he hadn't taken the warnings seriously at all. He had assumed it was part of the running joke he had with the Fairies. Those maddening little things were always pulling pranks on him and he took them with a grain of salt. They had once even cast a repelling spell on his apartment that had caused him to be locked out of his own home for a week. Even worse, they once froze all the water in his pipes and he had to dig up a wild explanation for his exasperated land-lord. He was always joking around with the Fairies and didn't think twice about the notes and warnings.

But now that he thought about it, he hadn't seen those little shits in a while. He hadn't seen any of the magical creatures lately. He swung his head around wildly, eyes darting all around, trying to spot a single creature. Sure they were invisible to the 'regular' person, but his land had had an abundance of magical creatures that were out and about no matter what time of the day it was. Vlad couldn't even remember the last time he saw a ghost. He may have not mixed with them, but there were plenty of them around.

He tugged at his hair in frustration. How could he have been so _blind_?! Panic seized his heart and clenched its fist around his soul. He couldn't remember the last time he spoke with a magical creature, let alone the last time he _saw_ one. As a matter of fact, if he traced back exactly when he started feeling this numbed-panic...He almost toppled over at the realization.

He wasn't just blind, he was stupid as well! His hands shook wildly as he halted and leaned against the back of a building. His chest heaved as he fought for breath. He greedily gulped down air, the adrenaline providing his weakening body with a jolt of energy. Perspiration dotted his face and neck.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" he muttered to himself as he cast the calling spell once again. Slicking his hair back and away from his forehead, he looked over his shoulder. The shadows of the alley providing him with cover, he proceeded to cast the spell. The orb of red energy pulsated as he waited for Arthur to pick up. After a solid minute, he ended the call and switched to calling Lukas. Once again, he failed to pick up and Vlad kicked a discarded can in frustration.

"What do I do, what do I do?" he tugged on his hair and paced back and forth. His heart tried to pound its way out of his chest and he lowered a hand to cover the thudding ache in his torso. His body quivered slightly but it went unnoticed to the man as his mind raced along with his pulse. Not knowing what else to do, he ran home.

As he ran, he was overcome by a feeling of dread. A part of him knew that something had gone horribly wrong and there was nothing he could do about it but he could hardly hear those thoughts over the loud ringing in his ears. He swayed and almost crashed into a biker who swerved out of the way just in time. Vlad's eyes scanned his surroundings wildly, trying to catch a glimpse of a fairy or an elf or a unicorn, hell he'd even be glad to see a ghost at that point!

Spotting his apartment building, he heaved open the front door that seemed ten times heavier than usual. He hauled himself up the stairs, his legs trembling with each step. His lungs seemed to be getting smaller and by the time he got to the fourth floor, his vision was starting to blur. Over his thunderous heartbeat and the high pitched ringing, he could hear a far off voice asking if he needed any help. The woman's question went unanswered as Vlad stumbled past her and down the hall towards his apartment. The passer-by was dragged away by her companion who was put off by Vlad's worn-down appearance.

He spotted his door and hobbled towards it. Enclosing his hand around the doorknob, he leaned into the door. If he wasn't so weary, he would've noticed that it wasn't locked like it had been when he left that morning. He dug around in his pocket as he tried to catch his breath. For a second, his vision blurred completely and he convulsed, dropping his keys to the floor. He raised a hand to his temple and winced. It was as if his nerves had been electrocuted and his organs crushed at the same time. Panting, he bent down to pick up his keys. When his quivering hands dropped the keys again, he clicked his tongue. Not caring about the risk of being seen, he blasted the door open with raw magic energy, not even bothering to step back from the blast. Unbeknownst to him, the sudden noise had caught the attention of the man lurking within his home.

Vlad lumbered inside, adrenaline completely burnt out. He barely managed to walk two steps when he was struck by the same sudden sensation. He contorted violently and his quivering legs gave out beneath him, not able to support his weight any longer. "What..." his tongue was heavy, his speech slurred. He crashed to his knees. "...The hell..." Refusing to succumb to the flood of weakness, Vlad focused on summoning his power. With his last ounce of strength(and sanity) he teleported to the other realm. The realm of magic.

~~~~

He woke up sprawled out on the floor. With the first breath he took, the tangy scent of rust rushed into his nostrils. He squinted at the brightness that seeped in between his eyelids and he squeezed them shut. It felt like he had been trampled on by a stampede of wild ogres but the sensation was somehow numbed. His entire body throbbed with muffled pain and his mind didn't register the growing pool of warm wetness beneath him. With an enormous effort, he opened his watery eyes once again. Digging his elbow into the ground, he pushed himself up into a sitting position, completely missing how the action soaked his exposed forearm in the thick liquid.

The moments it took for the fog in his mind to clear up were a little too long. He was still groggy with sleep and his thoughts were scattered, each of his senses shyly slinking out of the murky haze that covered his brain. The pounding of his head accentuated the rushing whoosh of blood in his ears and the two were like instruments in the wild song that was his thrumming heart. Vlad yawned and fought nodding off again. Blinking away the wetness in his eyes, he stared down at himself.

He somehow managed to destroy his clothes. His shirt was in tatters and was barely clinging on to his body. He spotted his favorite top hat on the floor beside him, crumpled and discarded. When he stretched out to reach for it, he brought it closer to his face for inspection. Was that a stain? He turned it over in his hands and noticed the dark substance seeping into the fabric of the cloth.

The fog cleared some more and he registered the feeling of liquid dribbling down his arm and drenching most of his lower body. As he raised his fingers to inspect the wetness covering them, he noticed something through the corner of his eye.

What was that?

It looked like...ink? Wait no, it couldn't be. The large, ugly gash on his arm caught him by surprise and that was when the sickening scent of iron punched him in the face and his mind was jolted fully awake.

_He was sitting in a pool of blood!_

Appalled by how long it took him to notice, Vlad scrambled to get up. As he crawled out of the crimson puddle, he couldn't tear his eyes off his arm. The cut was rough and jagged, as if it had been carved with a dull serrated blade. It almost looked like...letters? He stared down at the markings. After a long minute of scrutinizing, they began to make sense. It was a message, written in the oldest dialect of magic runes. No one alive could decipher it but him.

'If only you ran faster...' it read.

And that's when the pain hit him with full force. He hunched over and wrapped his good arm around himself, almost toppling over. It felt as if the sky had come crashing down onto his shoulders.

Why was it so quiet?

A hitched breath escaped his lips when he looked up. The pain was forgotten as quickly as it had come as he looked on. He spun around again and again, eyes wide in disbelief, his brain refusing to accept the catastrophe before him.

The lush grass that had been so soft and green was now hard and prickly. What had once acted as a cushion now dug into his skin, angrily poking his feet. Flowers that had brought vibrant colors to the rolling hills were now reduced to ashes, lost in the seared meadow. The mellow giants, with their soft smiles and gentle gestures were now one with the flowers. The crumbling of their scorched skeletons was as serene as they had been.

A dry cracked gully was all that was left of the cool, gushing river. The lazy evenings with his feet soaking in the water and jokes shared with the fresh-water mermaids and nymphs would be a thing of the past. Their torn-off scales decorated the gully, scattered about as if they had been sloppily sprinkled on.

The blackened branches of the trees were mangled and twisted. The towering trees with their wide green canopy that had housed all sorts of Pixies were now lifeless sticks of charcoal, crumbling away to join the pile of decay littering the forest floor. The Fairies that used to dart in between the branches were all gone without a trace. The wind that had once carried their shrieks of laughter now carried their muted screams and the remains of their wings.

All around him was the scent of soot and ash, the landscape charred. A cold breeze bit harshly at his skin, covering him in goosebumps. Vlad's mouth was agape and his heart was wrought and twisted within him. His faltering bellow mixed with the wails and cries of the deceased to form an unheard symphony. He fisted the remains of his tattered shirt, his arm clutching his side so tightly that his veins popped. The dark energy in the air was so potent, it almost reeked.

All he could do was stare at the carnage left behind by whatever evil entity that had done this. Feeling like a piece of him had died in the massacre, he blinked away the tears. The malevolent aura was so thick he almost choked on it. Someone—or rather, _something_ was messing with him, and he had a feeling it had gotten to the others as well. A fire was kindled within him. Vlad wasn't completely sure what happened, but he did know that someone would be on the receiving end of his wrath.

Crestfallen, he let his clenched fist fall limp. The wound on his arm wept along with his soul, the droplets of blood pattering onto the dry grass beneath him. Another puddle of the carmine liquid was quickly forming at his feet, but just like before, it went unnoticed. He murmured the spell for returning home. With a flash of red energy, the portal opened up to reveal the familiar scenery of his living room. He took one last look over his shoulder before stepping through the portal and walking away feeling dejected.


	8. Dwindling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who got inspired after getting hit with writer's block for weeks? Oh, I'm not sure if I mentioned it or not, but this story has a non-linear plot. The chapters are placed out of order on purpose, but things will all make sense towards the end. I'm pretty sure it can be pieced together bit by bit along the way too. Hope you enjoy ^-^

The scratch of a page turning was like a whisper in the otherwise silent room. The low hum of the refrigerator and the muffled tick-tock of the clock provided a steady rhythm as Gilbert drummed his fingers on the side of the hardcover. His heart raced with excitement as he drew closer to the climax of the story. Eyes wildly scanning the page, he let his feet fall to the floor as he straightened up in his seat. His fingers unconsciously tapped faster as he neared the bottom of the page. With bated breath, he turned the page once more only to find...the author's note?

"Wait, that's it? What are all these pages then?" He flipped through the last few pages but there was nothing apart from the acknowledgements and autobiography. There was also a solid ten pages which was the introduction to one of the author's other books. It was pretty cruel if you asked Gilbert. All it did was build up excitement that wouldn't be satisfied for months until the book finally came out.

Deflated, he let the book fall limp in his lap. He stared at the swirly design on the carpet beneath him, his mind still captivated by the story. "What a lame ending." He mused to himself, gently tossing the book onto the coffee table where his feet had been reclining a few moments ago.

A soft chirp caught his attention and he finally noticed the weight of his pet Gilbird on his head. The small yellow canary was often found nestled snugly in his snow white hair or perched silently on his shoulder, somehow always managing to go unnoticed by the albino.

"How can he just kill off all those characters without any closure?" He ranted, now that he knew he had an audience. The bird chirped once again and Gilbert nodded, as if the canary had made a point.

" _Very_ unawesome." Gilbert muttered. He folded his glasses and neatly tucked them into their case. Normally, he wouldn't be caught dead wearing the damn things but he was in the privacy of his home right now, and technically, that didn't count.

Though he hated to admit it, his eyesight had been getting worse lately. He tried to act like he wasn't really concerned, but his younger brother Ludwig always made a fuss over it. He constantly nagged him about it, insisting that he wear his glasses all the time.

"No way little bro! If I walk around wearing those things it'll knock down my awesomeness by like fifty points!"

"Then at least wear your contacts!" Ludwig would argue with an eye roll, always annoyed by his older brother's antics.

"No way! How the hell do you expect me to put on _contacts_? I'd rather gouge my eyes out with a stick!"

"But _you can't see_!" Ludwig would start to get exasperated at this point and Gilbert would get that annoying smirk on his face.

"Of course I can, I'm not _blind_." Ludwig would huff in annoyance as Gilbert guffawed rambunctiously.

The badgering had increased over the past few weeks, ever since that one time when they had been out for a drive and Gilbert missed their exit a couple of times because he couldn't read the signs. Ludwig had found out after the fourth missed exit and demanded he pull over right away. After that, he had refused to let him behind the wheel again. He even went to the extent of confiscating his keys and only agreeing to give them back on the condition that Gilbert would promise to always wear his glasses, _especially_ while driving.

"Speaking of Luddy," Gilbert muttered, glancing at the clock on the wall. He had to rub his eyes and squint a little bit but that was probably because he had been reading all day. Right? Obviously. No need to worry. "He should be home by now, shouldn't he?" he spoke aloud, trying to drown out the thoughts of his impending blindness. Gilbird chirped in agreement. He stood up carefully and stretched his arms high towards the ceiling.

He'd been so absorbed in reading, he hadn't even realized how late it was. His stomach twisted with hunger and he counted the hours since he last ate. "I should get started on dinner."

He crossed into the living room and tiptoed past the sleeping Hovawart, careful not to wake it. Across from the dog bed and on the other side of the room, a glint of metal leaning on the wall caught his eye.

"Gotta call Mathias to get that shit outta my living room." he mumbled as he passed by.

He snickered at the memory of Ludwig almost bursting a blood vessel when he had come home to find a six-foot battle ax leaning in the corner.

"What the hell is that and why is it here?!" he had shrieked. He was overwhelmed by so many questions, he didn't even know where to begin. He demanded it to be moved to the garage right away, but Gilbert had laughed it off, assuring him that the dogs were obedient enough to stay away from it and no one else was around to get hurt by it. Ludwig was still unhappy and had tried to move it himself but almost sliced himself into two in the process.

"How is it so heavy?" he had asked, winded after the near-death experience. "I told you it was real." Gilbert said, pulling the shell-shocked Ludwig a few paces back. "More importantly, how did he manage to bring it here?" Ludwig rounded on him but Gilbert just shrugged. "He forgot it, but don't worry, I'll call him to come pick it up." Ludwig stared at him in disbelief. "Besides," Gilbert clapped his hand on the back of Ludwig's shoulder, "It looks awesome. Not as awesome as me, but it goes well with the furniture don't ya think?" he laughed raucously and ruffled Ludwig's hair before walking away.

Gilbert snickered once again and shook his head. Luddy was always so uptight. A little _too_ uptight. Though he wouldn't admit it, Gilbert worried about his little brother. A lot. Ludwig had been working especially harder these days. Every night he would come home later than the last. He'd barely manage to keep his eyes open during dinner and then he'd go into his study to continue his paperwork. There had been many nights where he'd gone straight to bed, sometimes in his work clothes. Some nights he wouldn't even make it home at all, having fallen asleep at work. Gilbert had tried to convince him to take it easy to no avail. Even on his days off, Ludwig would spend his time fretting and worrying about something or other.

Gilbert would make him his favorite tonight. He _was_ the awesomest big brother after all.

Whistling to himself, he scrubbed his pale hands in the sink. He stopped to think for a second, staring absently at the light blue tiles on the wall. The way the light reflected off the tiles made him squint, but he was used to the constant strain. Sometimes it was a stabbing pain that was quickly followed by tears. Most of the time it was a dull thrum that pounded in sync with his pulse. He had always liked the small waves incorporated into the design. With a slow blink, he turned away from the glare of light. He tapped his finger on his chin for a second before settling on which dish to make.

He opened and closed cupboards, grabbing a can of beans here and a few vegetables there. He checked off his mental list as he gathered the assortment of ingredients onto the counter. All he was missing was...the potatoes. Where were they? Not finding them in their usual spot, he assumed that their stash had run out.

He spun on his heels, and stuck his head into the pantry. The bright kitchen light sliced the darkness of the small closet, leaking into the corners and casting strange shadows. He scanned the various food items before locating the new sack he had bought sometime last week. You can never have too much potatoes, he always said.

The world spun when he bent forward and warmth rushed to his head. "Woah." he straightened back up and grabbed his forehead, nearly losing his balance. It took a few seconds for his vision to clear up. Massaging his throbbing temple, he tried again, moving much slower this time. He heaved and almost stumbled back after hoisting the sack up over his shoulder. Managing to stay on his feet, he walked with heavy steps back to the kitchen.

With a huge exhale, he dropped the potatoes down onto the counter. Cursing, he leaned onto the sack, unbothered by the scratchy material irritating his cheek. It took a minute longer than usual to catch his breath, and even then he was still fighting to keep his gasps under control.

"I'll be fine. It's nothing." he rasped to his pet. The canary cocked its head as if to doubt him. He smiled and with a slight huff he continued, "I'm okay. It's nothing. I am the awesome Gilbert! Nothing can best me!" As if to prove it, he gave a loud, boisterous laugh. If it was loud and harsh enough, maybe he could ignore the quiver in his legs and the strain in his chest.

Straightening up, he rolled his still throbbing shoulders and gave another raspy chuckle. His strength had been deteriorating a lot faster than expected, but he'd be fine. He was awesome after all. No need for Luddy to find out, no need at all.

It took a few tries to get his hands steady enough to firmly grip either side of the flour packet. He tugged with a little more force than necessary, tearing the package and causing the white powder to puff up in his face. He sneezed, wildly waving a hand in front of his nose and mouth.

Today seemed like one of his bad days.

Still coughing, he continued to wave away the cloud of white dust. He blindly stepped backwards and rammed his side into the island behind him. He gasped loudly, the wind thrust out of him. His next breath was a loud heave, and he clung on to his shirt as he broke into another fit of coughs after inhaling more flour. He cursed and rubbed his side, trying to swallow his coughs. There was the sound of nails clicking on tile and a concerned whine. Gilbert looked down at Berlitz and smiled.

"Hey boy, when'd you wake up?" he bent down to rub the Hovawart's fur. "Don't worry about me, I'm fine." he said in between coughs. Berlitz whined once again and pawed at his shirt. Gilbert let out a chuckle and ruffled the spot between his ears.

"Let me just rest here for a little bit." he whispered, gently lowering himself to the ground. He didn't mind the coldness seeping in through his pants. Stretching out his legs, he leaned his back onto the wooden bottom of the island. He coughed a final time to clear his throat and let his head fall back on the cupboard behind him. Berlitz huddled closer and Gilbert hugged him to his side. A light laugh tickled his throat when the dog licked his cheek. The sound hung in the air for a short second before the silence swallowed it up.

As he sat there on the ground, staring at the ceramic waves that hurt his eyes, the silence seemed louder than ever. His fingers stroked Berlitz's silky black and gold fur but his mind didn't register it. It was run amuck with thoughts of his deteriorating health.

The doctor's had told him it would only be worse from here on out but he had refused to accept it. He was barely pushing thirty, and he simply refused to croak before hitting at least twenty-eight. But whether he liked it or not, he had to face the facts. He was dying.

He always thought that if he put on a smile and pushed through it, everything would be alright. Everyone had seemed to buy his image of perfect health. Antonio and Francis didn't suspect a thing. And as far as Ludwig knew, his older brother seemed to be pulling through, there might have even been the chance of getting better.

Gilbert _had_ to stay strong. He wouldn't know what to do with himself if Ludwig found out. It had been impossible to shake him off lately. He always insisted on going to the doctor's with him. Gilbert didn't mind in the earlier years, but nowadays...he just couldn't bear to see Ludwig's crestfallen face every time the doctor brought back the results. Or finding him asleep in his study at three in the morning with multiple tabs open on Albinism and potential 'cures'. His heart couldn't handle knowing Ludwig stared at him as if he would disappear at any moment. It had been a miracle Gilbert managed to elude him and attend the last few appointments by himself. Besides, Ludwig already had enough on his plate, he didn't need the worries of Gil's health weighing him down. He had been so absorbed by work lately. Gilbert took a wavering breath and leaned forward to bury his head in Berlitz's fur. The dog nuzzled his head into the man's shoulder and whined softly.

He couldn't mess up. He had to soldier on. And he would. For Ludwig. He couldn't let there be a repeat of _last time_. On that night, he had stayed up writing in his journal as usual. He remembered his throat had been feeling really dry and his muscles ached from sitting for so long. He had gotten up to get a drink of water. He didn't even realize how tired he was, as a matter of fact when he thought about it, it had felt like he had been floating the whole time. One moment he was walking on air, and the next he was lying at the bottom of the staircase with an almost hyperventilating Ludwig on the floor beside him. "Why're you freaking out, Luddy?" he had slurred. From that moment, Ludwig had been on his case twenty-four-seven. He had even refused to go to work for a while. That almost cost him his job.

Luddy always worked so hard. He could come home any moment, drained and starving. Gilbert should really get up now. He should at least get dinner started. But Berlitz's fur was so warm. He buried his face into the fur even more. And soft. His eyelids weighed a ton, even when they were closed. And cozy. He would get up in a minute. He hugged the dog closer and ran his thumb over his paw over and over again, till his thumb moved on its own and he forgot about the motion. Berlitz whimpered and sniffed at Gilbert's slumped shoulders. He was so tired.

Without warning, the peace was suddenly shattered. Both perked up at the sound of loud knocking on the front door. A howl erupted from somewhere further within the house and another one picked up from the den where Gilbert had been reading earlier. The pounding continued and Gilbert got up with a grunt.

"Alright, alright, I'm coming!" he dusted off his pants and rubbed his thrumming eyes. There was the sound of footsteps bounding down the stairs. "Blackie! Aster! Keep it down!" he shouted to the dogs. Berlitz took off, barking madly as he ran ahead of him to join the other two at the front door.

Gilbert gripped the wall to steady himself and ignored the uncomfortably warm feeling of blood rushing to his head. The knocking only grew more urgent and he closed his eyes, waiting for the weightless feeling to go away.

"Coming!" he shouted, picking up the pace. Jeez, who the heck was it? He rolled his eyes at their impatience. Did it always take him this long to walk across the house?

"Down, Blackie! Berlitz, quiet!" The pounding had changed to banging and he scowled.

"Down boy! Aster, get down! Stop barking already!" He tried shooing the dogs away but they all nipped at his feet and scratched at the door. Pretending their rowdiness didn't almost just knock him off his quivering feet, he managed to get past them and thrust open the front door. His glower immediately melted away and was replaced with a wide grin.

"Antonio!" his raspy laughter echoed in the night. " Where the hell have you been, ya bastard?" He opened the door wider to let his best friend in. "Would you guys cut it out?" He snapped at the now growling dogs. He tried shooing them away again, but they refused to budge. He chuckled sheepishly and turned back to his friend. "I don't know what's up with them, come on in."

As the simpering Spaniard crossed the threshold, Gilbert failed to notice the smile that was a little too wide, and the muted fury that burned silently behind the twinkle of his eyes.


End file.
